


Future Past

by breejah



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Batman Spoilers, Brain Damage, Brain Injury that doesn't act like a brain injury, DubCon due to Amnesia, Implied Past Jason/Dick, Instant Lovers, Lobdellverse, M/M, Making Something of the Shit Show the Nightwing Comics have Turned Into, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, Nightwing Isn't Nightwing, Nightwing Spoilers, Prostate Milking, Psychic Healing, RHATO Spoilers, Robincest, Seriously Lobdell WTF, Strangers to Lovers, Temporary Amnesia, heroes in crisis spoilers, jaydick, pseudoincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-01-16 07:26:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18516730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breejah/pseuds/breejah
Summary: Blüdhaven has lost Nightwing with the aim of one single bullet. In his place, others are rising to fill the void, and Dick "Ric" Grayson is just trying to make sense of who he isnow, let alone who he's supposed tobecome. Deciding to take a night off from the stress, he goes to his familiar watering hole, and there finds some unexpected company that somehow seems awfully familiar. After an amazing night together, Ric realizes this unexpected tryst comes from someplace he least expected - his past - and may have ties to his near future.JayDick fic trying to dredge up something potentially fun in the questionable current Nightwing comics.Rated E for Sex, Slight DubCon nature of their rekindled romance, and violence.Disclaimer:Spoiler heavy for multiple current DC Comics titles. Fair warning if you read this, several titles may be spoiled for you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [breejah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/breejah/pseuds/breejah) in the [FWU_2019_May_Memory](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/FWU_2019_May_Memory) collection. 



> A _"What If?"_ JayDick fic set during the current 'Nightwing' comic run (Issue 50-Present), loosely in the current 'Red Hood' comics (Issue 24-Present, with liberties taken), Heroes in Crises (through Issue 8), and Batman (Issue 55-Present).
> 
> Yeah, I'm not a fan of what DC Editorial as a whole has done to poor Dick, but I'm adding this to sort of abate my issues with the title as it stands. Let's hope Jurgens turns it around! In the mean time, enjoy!

_You're here today_  
_No future fears_  
_This day will last_  
_A thousand years_  
_If you want it to_

**-Dawn, Moody Blues**

* * *

**Prodigal Bar, Blüdhaven**

Ric stared into the bottom of his near-empty tumbler, frowning at the small sliver of whiskey left to him. Lifting his head, he looked for the pretty thing he’d been trying to weasel into bed for weeks, seeing her across the bar, talking to a dark-haired male who leaned against the wooden banister, whispering something in her ear that had her tossing her head back and laughing. He scowled, draining his glass, reaching into his coat pockets to toss a few wadded bills on the counter that would cover at least a small portion of the large sum he now owed the woman, about to slide off the seat, when a large hand clapped on his shoulder and a bottle and freshly-filled tumbler was scooted in front of him.

Blinking, looking up, he was surprised to note the man who’d just been talking to the bartender standing at his side. Somehow, he'd snuck up on him, and that was something that didn't happen often to him. It was one of those odd little tricks of his lately, just randomly _knowing_ things out of the blue, with no rhyme or reason as to why or how he should know them, just that he did. Crystalline blue eyes and a sharp jaw stared back at him. Something about his eyes had Ric hesitating, frowning again as he turned his own pair pointedly to the hand on his shoulder. The man grinned, peeling back his palm, then settled beside him, sipping on his own cup.

Ric didn’t know this man, even as something prickled in the back of his mind - a mind that, until recently, had worked a completely different way and told him he was someone and something else to everyone in Blüdhaven and beyond - that very ghost of what he once was telling him on some level, he should know who this was next to him. Still, he stared, drawing a complete blank, until the man grunted faintly his way, reaching for the glass he’d placed in front of him.

"Didn't say I didn't want it," he muttered, scowling, "back off."

He heard the man laugh as he sat back down, reaching for the tumbler of whiskey before his mysterious new companion could take it from him and drain it dry. His new friend shrugged, reaching for the bottle and refilling his own glass, staring back and inspecting him with a gaze perhaps a little too sharp for a simple pedestrian. As usual, that little tidbit of unbidden knowledge made his mind whirl, those tell-tale headaches that haunted him when his Swiss cheese of a brain managed to drag up something from the damaged parts of him began to come forward, making him absently rub a finger against his brow to stem them off. The man's eyes sharpened on the reflexive movement of his fingers, his lips briefly pursing in what Ric almost suspected would have been a frown, if he hadn't shrugged it off like a wet shirt and switched back to that jovial-looking smile from before.

Dropping his hand, he stared again at the man next to him, wondering why he'd  chosen him of all people in the bar to approach. It was evening, just a little past dinner time, and the bar was bustling for the type of seedy dive it was that offered reasonable drinks that weren't watered down. He was more handsome than most in the bar - not a matter of vanity, but simple fact when he shifted his eyes about - but knew he was far less approachable than others seated nearby. That didn't seem to deter his companion as he stared back, sipping on his whiskey.

Ric took the time to take him in. He was tall, muscular, keen blue eyes that were such a pale shade of blue they almost seemed to glow against his ruddy, tanned skin. His jaw was unshaven, sharp and attractive, and his appearance was subdued but well-kept, with tousled black military-cut hair. He wasn't dressed in anything flashy, wearing clothes that seemed more for comfort and ease of movement than fashion, but his aura made him stand out in a crowd, even in the tired digs. His hands, especially his thumbs and trigger fingers, appeared calloused.

“What you do for a living?” He asked, finally breaking the silence, when his newfound friend refused to do it.

“This and that,” The man commented in a deep timbre, making Ric reassess him in a completely _different_ way. The man stared back, holding his gaze far too long for someone not looking for _that_ kind of company, and the base of Ric’s spine prickled in awareness. _Ahhh, now I see what you’re wanting from me._ “What about you?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, making Ric lift his head to meet his stare head on when the man leaned forward, lowering his gaze slowly over his form.

“You really here to ask me what I do for a living?” Ric finally asked, cutting past preamble. The man laughed huskily, holding out his hand after ruffling it through that thick top of close-cropped hair.

“Hell, you’re right,” He grinned, making Ric smile briefly in amusement as the man - who could obviously hold his own, from what Ric could glean from the simple ways in which he moved, always observant and precise - colored faintly. “Name’s Jason. What's yours? You alone?”

“Ric,” he replied, shaking his hand and admiring the stranger's strong grip, but noted Jason didn’t pull away like strangers tend to do when greeting those they’ve never met, his fingers lingering, holding Ric's own in a loose embrace. He frowned, tilting his head to the side, when Jason didn't pull away, just stared. “I'm alone, yeah." Jason just kept staring, so Ric looked over him in a way Jason wouldn't misinterpret. "Not opposed to company, or anything else you have a mind for." 

"You don't say?" Jason smiled, leaning forward, his eyes hooding and looking blatantly at Ric's mouth. He grinned faintly, sipping on his whiskey with a nod. Still, the more he stared, the more Jason seemed familiar, a headache waiting to form. He frowned. "I know you from somewhere? Or..did? Once upon a time?" He didn't want to explain his brain injury, not to someone who might not even know him from his life before, not in the mood to see either pity from those that did, or shock and sympathy from those that didn't, having to explain his sob story to a total stranger.

It didn’t miss his inspection that Jason’s eyes went lazer sharp, even as his smile remained loosely in place, not a facial muscle out of place or tightening at being called out. “What makes you ask that?” Jason finally asked, keeping his fingers threaded through Ric’s own.

Ric raised an eyebrow, lowering his gaze to where Jason still held his hand loosely in his own, making Jason’s fingers curl around his own. He very well could be just a horny guy looking for a quick hook up, but often times those headaches of his only struck him when something was struggling to reconnect in his mind that didn't quite know how to.

Jason slowly leaned forward, jerking Ric out of the searing brightness behind his eyelids that loomed there, bringing his lips close enough to the side of his head that Ric could smell the faint taste of whiskey on his tongue and feel the heat of his breath near his ear. “Maybe I’m just looking for...company....and think you're pretty. You want company, Ric?”

Suddenly, he relaxed. Ric knew the drill. Jason wanted sex, right now if given a choice. He could see the air coiling around his companion, all but creating a neon sign above his head stating that he wanted to fuck, right then and there. Ric was guilty of the same thing these days, enjoying getting lost in an orgasm or two with someone with a willing mindset, and realized he could use the distraction. Nothing fought off a migraine like a good bout of marathon sex with plenty of screaming orgasms.

Jason stared, leaning even more forward, his grip loosening from Ric’s hand to lower and slide up his thigh under the bar top, grazing the edge of his cock. Ric's jaw feathered from where he grit his teeth, sucking in a sharp breath, responding to the touch, wondering why in the hell this guy's touch and smell seemed so _familiar_ to him, watching Jason's eyes turn so dark they almost looked violet in the dim light of the overhead lamps.

“Ten minutes. Meet me in the alley. My place. Pay the tab.”

He rose, watching something unfamiliar flicker in the back of Jason’s eyes - an emotion he couldn’t pinpoint - before Jason nodded, his grip loosening and sliding off Ric’s thigh as he stood, pushing away the bar stool, tugging up the corner of his collar and making his way for the door. He could feel eyes on him, both Jason’s and the bartender’s, but he ignored them both, pushing past the heavy wooden door to the outside, ignoring the sudden salty stench of rotting trash lingering against the street curb to turn and wander down the alley he’d given Jason to join him in.

Not seven minutes past when he left the bar, Jason was there, hovering close. Once again, he was surprised like before, not sensing the man approach, just suddenly noting his presence against him, and he moved, walking towards the dark apartment buildings he called home.

 _Home,_ he thought with a snort, looking up at the hovel he now stayed in more often than not. He didn’t want to be anywhere these days that reminded him of those slew of unfamiliar people and faces that called themselves his family, when they were nothing to him now. Nothing that made sense, anyways. Whenever they lingered, those headaches started, until he could barely get out of bed and function. When those headaches started, so did the dreams, and then things got really weird, like being able to do things he had no right to be able to do - like leaping buildings, knowing how to manipulate pressure points to choke out a target but not do lasting damage, fucked up shit like that.

He glanced over his shoulder, expecting any moment for his companion to slowly tuck tail and run. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d brought a would-be one night stand home, only for them to decide halfway up the stairs to his new place that they’d rather take their chances at a classier joint up the street.

This man, Jason, seemed to have none of those issues. In fact, when he glanced back, the sharp angles of his square jaw seemed somehow edgier, _hungrier._ “We almost there?” He asked Ric, pulling him away from his thoughts as he reached for the keys in his pocket.

“Yeah,” he replied with a twinge of amusement. “Someone’s hungry for cock, huh? You do this often?”

“Not so much now, once upon a time maybe,” Jason replied, his tone low, seemingly impatient as Ric slowed, nearing his door once they hit the fourth level, reaching forward to unlock the series of barricades to his ratty, efficiency apartment. “Let’s get inside. I’m eager, yeah. You’re such a pretty thing, after all.”

Ric snorted again, swinging the door open and pocketing his keys, making a grand gesture for Jason to step into his humble abode. Jason lowered his gaze heatedly over Ric, stepping past him, still towering over him by several inches and several pounds of heavy muscle. The man was _huge,_ and that was saying something, since Ric wasn’t exactly what anyone would call waifish.

“Want something? Ain’t got much, maybe a beer,” he commented, tossing his coat on a chair when he followed Jason inside, closing the door and locking up. He turned, expecting Jason to be studying the room, taking it in, just turning to answer his question, but Jason was doing none of those, surprising him when he turned and was standing inches away, eyes hot, fingers suddenly gripping him as he shoved him against the wall, his mouth hungrily descending down to his own.

 _Damn. Right to business, it seems._ Not that Ric was complaining, Jason certainly knew how to kiss. He groaned faintly, reaching up to fist his fingers through Jason’s hair, who was already making quick work of the buttons on his jeans, tugging thick fingers into the pleating of his boxers, finding his cock.

“ _Fuck,_ you’re in a hurry,” Ric rasped as Jason grunted softly in response  and lowered his mouth, nipping roughly at Ric’s throat. He knew what he was doing, seemingly able to sense exactly what he liked, pumping him thoroughly with a slight twist in his wrist, his other hand skirting along his spine, dipping between the cheeks of his ass, and tracing a small circular pattern against his rim. “ _Shit,_ that - _damn_. Keep going.”

He didn’t know _how_ Jason knew, but he loved being fondled and fingered at the same time. His whole body broke out in goosebumps as he shuddered, his cock burning hot, turning to stone in Jason's expert hands. Jason said nothing through all this, just touched him in a way that had him firing on all cylinders, almost ready to come before Jason even had his own pants down.

“Slow down, cowboy,” Ric laughed weakly, reaching for his belt, feeling the shudder ripple through Jason’s frame when he finally got his pants loose enough to feel out the edge of his cock through his clothes. “You even know what you want? Top? You wanting to fuck me, is that it?”

“Yeah,” Jason grunted out in a rusty, hoarse whisper. Ric finally reached his cock, feeling his already warm skin turn molten at Jason’s girth. He was a _big boy_ in every sense of the word. He was hard, already heavily dripping precum in his obvious excitement, and Ric felt his neck flush hot.  _Goddamn. Nice cock._

“Might want to put those fingers to use, you’re huge,” Ric laughed faintly, his body hating his next action, but he did it all the same,  pulling away slightly to begin to tugging off his clothes. “You’re pretty big, even for me.”

“It’ll fit,” Jason said, staring at him in a way that made Ric’s sense of déjà vu kick into overdrive, like they’d done this song and dance before. Frowning, he opened his mouth to ask again why he seemed so familiar to him, but that phantom tease of a headache hissed back and he dropped it, just amounting it to Jason’s eagerness. Jason just stood there, watching him strip, and Ric smirked at how eager Jason seemed, only his cock out, hard and faintly throbbing as he waited impatiently for Ric to undress.

“Come here,” Jason finally growled, losing all sense of patience, reaching for him and tugging his own jeans and boxers down, not bothering with his boots, tearing off his own shirt and jacket so roughly, it almost made Ric chuckle. He was muscular, not too hairy, just a cropped dusting between his pecs and a mouth-watering trail of dark curls teasing around his belly button and blooming around his cock. He was large, even for a man his size, and his balls were a thick, heavy sac underneath. Ric shuddered, feeling his arousal burning like hot coals in the pit of his stomach. He wanted Jason in him, immediately. The idea of Jason fucking him had his own cock dripping eagerly. He tugged loosely on his balls to relax himself as Jason grabbed ahold of him firmly and tugged him up close.

Ric staggered forward in Jason's grip, watching as he traced his eyes eagerly over his thighs, cock, and abs. When Jason turned him, tucking him up against the wall, slowly lifting his leg and placing his foot on the chair his discarded jacket was in, he felt Jason trace his thighs, hips and ass with strong, calloused fingers. Jason groaned, fisting the globes of his ass and parting them, forcing Ric to cant  his hips back towards him, and Ric jolted at the feel of Jason's probing cock against his ass.

“Condom?” Ric tensed, looking over his shoulder to watch Jason pant raggedly, fingers digging into his back as he stared at where his cock rested just against the rim of his hole. Jason looked up slowly, his eyes dark and unfocused, but he slowly blinked with a frown, nodding, reaching for his jacket, grabbing lube and the aforementioned condom. Ric turned back to the wall, leaning forward like Jason wanted, hearing Jason slick himself, tear open the condom packet and roll it down his cock, and then use those same lube-slicked fingers rimming him again before slowly plunging inside, loosening him. The lube was cold, but it felt nice, strange against the warmth of Jason's fingers.

Jason, it seemed, knew his way around the inside of a man well, too. He groaned, tensing up, feeling Jason's thick long fingers find that  sweet spot inside and rub. He grunted, trembling, canting his hips up further, hearing Jason's heavy breathing still for a moment, until Ric finally groaned, reaching down and pressing his fingers against the base of his cock, not about to come just because Jason was fancy and knew how to find that spot and massage tightly, close to dragging an internal climax out of him. "No," he rasped, shaking his head, hearing Jason chuckle, but he let up, pulling his fingers back. "With your cock, you asshole. Not your fucking fingers."

"Aren't we bossy all of a sudden?" Jason growled, surprising Ric as he pulled his fingers back, slapping the firm globe of his left ass as Ric panted, struggling for composure. "But you're right, first with my cock." Ric huffed, not about to tell him that a second round remained to be seen, hissing in displeasure as Jason seemed to take his time pressing forward.

"Fuck me sometime this century, please,” he spat back, pressing his head against the wall when Jason slapped him again - _hard_. It stung, but soon it turned into a slightly buzzed euphoria, making his skin sing in pleasure. _Fuck, that feels good,_ he thought, groaning as his body grew hungrier for more intense immediate play. Jason didn’t waste time, pressing forward, spreading the cheeks of his ass, and Ric felt the blunt rubber edge of his cock pressing inside, breaking past the tight seal of his entrance.

Ric panted, groaning, relaxing just until Jason was breaching him, but as he sank lower, tightened around him, hearing the other man groan sharply - the sound almost painful, but the husky undertones telling him he loved how tight he’d made himself - grinning faintly and pushing back hard, until Jason was bottomed out with a jolt, all the way inside him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jason hissed, his grip turning iron-hard on his hips. He’d have bruises in the morning, but with the way he felt inside him - thick and hard and slightly throbbing - it would be worth the cost.

“ _Hard._ I want it hard,” Ric suddenly pleaded, barely recognizing his own needy tone, grunting when Jason tensed, then began to slowly increase his initially slow thrusts into a hard, pounding rhythm. Again, Jason seemed to know exactly what he liked, what angle to hit, and Ric let out an agonized cry when his prostate was triggered, making him spasm and lock down on Jason’s cock until the exploding sensation passed. As before, his cock weeped, dripping heavily in a steady stream, but as the spasms passed and Ric gasped for breath, he knew he still had another to look forward to.  _Fucking hell,_ he thought weakly, his body buzzing off the orgasm, as Jason kept at him, moving hard and fast.  _More, please. Give me more._

“Jesus, that’s as good as I remember,” Jason whispered, making Ric’s ears suddenly prickle and his spine to stiffen, even as good as Jason's shuttling cock felt. _What did he say?_ Did he mean the way his hole twitched around him when he came from that...or something else?

He meant to ask, but once more he was swept up in the way Jason was taking him hard and fast, leaning over him, reaching over and pumping his cock furiously as he fucked him, and Ric didn’t have a chance to say anything before he was dangerously close once more.

 _Fuck, oh_ **_fuck,_ ** _I’m going to -_ **_God._ ** _Yes, yes, yes -_ **_fuck yes!_ **

“Come now!” He heard Jason roar, just as his body hit the gas pedal, revving him over the edge of a cliff, his climax the linear plane he was about to crash into in the far distance. He heard himself crying out, heard Jason’s harsh bark of pleasure, and then Jason’s cock kicked and throbbed in the most delicious way inside him, letting him feel exactly how hard he was getting off in the rapid way his cock pumped and spurt inside him, and he realized distantly through the hazy cataclysmic pleasure that he himself was doing a damn fine job of ruining his coat and chair, coming in explosive arcs all over everything in his path from where he sagged against the wall. He didn't even give a shit, the way Jason rode him, worked him over as he was coming, making such delicious noises as he did so, it was worth the cost of a new coat.

When Jason finally went limp, curling his sweaty form against Ric’s back, Ric struggled to stay upright.

“Goddamn,” Ric whispered, shuddering, feeling Jason steady his trembling hips as he reached down, holding the condom in place and then pulling out, leaving Ric’s back feeling cold and clammy from the absence of Jason’s heat as he turned away and disposed of the condom in the trash.

Not wasting time, Ric staggered forward, flopping on the couch near the aforementioned chair, his own breathing still labored. Jason’s was too, from what he could hear of the man when he came closer, then settled beside Ric’s sprawled form. Slowly, he raised a hand and firmly gripped his ass, making Ric snort. He wasn’t moving for anything. That orgasm had taken everything out of him and now he just wanted to sleep.

“How about that beer?” Jason suddenly asked, making Ric crack open an eye. He rolled up to a sitting position, noting Jason had lost the shoes and loose hanging jeans, now totally naked. He noted several scars, like the ones he had but some being far, far worse than his own, lining his body, especially around his ribs. Jason didn't seem to be eager to explain his roadmap of injuries, but neither was Ric, so he said nothing. Even with the gnarly scars, he was attractive as hell, almost lethal, and Ric discovered he liked it.

“It’s in the fridge, help yourself,” Ric finally replied, earning a laugh from Jason as he stood. He was completely serious about not moving, smiling unapologetically as Jason eyeballed him and then shook his head, moving towards the kitchenette in the corner. Ric settled back on the couch, slowly closing his eyes and casting a hand across his face. _Fuck, that was amazing. I haven't come that hard in -- ages._ He was almost dozing off when Jason returned, sitting back where he was before, his fingers tracing his thighs and ass.

“Am I allowed to stay?” Jason asked, when Ric said nothing, filling in the thickening silence in the room. Ric lifted his arm, looking to where Jason stared at him, perplexed at the change he saw. Earlier, Jason had appeared rough, hardened, and almost criminal, now he suddenly looked youthful and hopeful, like a kid with a crush. He chuckled, dropping his arm back over his face, shrugging a shoulder. It amused him to think the man was getting all sweet on him after a particularly satisfying fuck. Still, it was nice.  He hadn't seen someone interested in him for longer than a casual lay in a while and found himself not telling Jason to get lost.

“Sure. Not like I got shit to steal here anyways. Help yourself. I’m going to crash, I think.” He rolled to a sitting position, reaching forward on a whim to tightly squeeze Jason’s hand. “That was damn good. Leave me your number. I wouldn’t mind doing this again.”

“What about tonight?” Jason asked, gripping Ric’s wrist when he moved to stand and wander towards the bed. Ric blinked, glancing back at Jason, who stared at him again with that odd look in his eyes that he once more couldn’t pinpoint what it was for or about. He frowned, rolling his head and stretching his neck slowly as if to rattle loose whatever his fucked up head was trying to tell him, drawing a frustrating blank.

“Do I...do we know each other? Or did?” He asked again, like he had at the bar, watching that boyish look vanish from Jason's face as soon as he’d blurted the question. Jason once more looked cold and lethal--and Ric wasn't entirely sure if he liked it, now more confused than ever. He didn't want to be someone's idyllic crush, just someone's hot lay. That was easier and set no obligations for a relationship past sex and orgasms.

Jason shook his head slowly, his brows knitting together as if in confusion and Ric brushed off his own dose of it, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his lips. “Sorry, you...remind me of someone--I think. It’s hard to explain without getting into the gory details, of which I very much _don't_ want to do, okay?"

Jason nodded, tilting his head to hungrily return the kiss, until Ric pulled away with a laugh, too tired to do anything, feeling Jason's fingers ghosting up his thigh again. “Slow down, man. I'm bone tired. Didn't sleep for shit last night and I need a few Z's before we fuck again, if its going to be anything like the wall was, damn."

Jason grinned, making Ric do so in turn. Chuckling, he pressed one more quick kiss to Jason's lips before moving to the bed. "Waking up to sex sounds a lot better than what I usually wake up to. Stay, do whatever.”

“I’ll stay as long as you let me,” Jason murmured, making Ric turn back his way for a moment as he neared the bed - or what he called a bed - in the far corner of the small apartment. Ric chuckled, thinking the comment odd but sweet, sinking onto the familiar king-sized box spring and mattress he used as a bed, shrugging his shoulder as he yawned. _Whatever floats your boat, kid._

Ric had almost fallen asleep again when he felt the other side of the bed dip. It was Jason, pressing up against him, dropping his hands to curl them around Ric’s waist, and Ric tensed for a brief moment, not expecting a spooning situation when he'd invited the man to stay, then finally relaxed and tried to fall asleep again when Jason seemed to want to sleep beside him.

Just as he drifted off, he smiled. _This is...nice. Funny that._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how long I'll run this, but decided to stretch this out from a one-shot to a miniature multi-chapter fic, returning Ric to Dick and hinting at a future steady romance between these two. I'm expecting 4-5 chapters at most, unless the urge strikes me to write more.

When Ric woke the following morning, he was alone. What surprised him, though, was the brand-new phone laying on the pillow beside his own with a single number programmed into it. When he lifted his head with a frown, a text came through that made a corner of his mouth kick up in a half-measured grin.

_It’s J. You ain’t got shit for food or a phone. You’re taking this one, don’t argue. Breakfast in the fridge. I’ll text you when I’m free next. Make that ass available._

Not knowing what else to reply with, he simply responded back with the middle finger emoji, then rolled into a sitting position, scrubbing a hand through his lengthening locks. Grimacing against the stirrings of a headache - a daily occurrence lately - he glanced across the room, noting his reflection against the darkened screen of his tiny television. His hair was coming back in, sticking up every which way, after he’d spent the past four weeks buzzing it, but couldn’t seem to care enough lately to cut it all off again. At least this way, he’d stop being stared at by fares with his hair beginning to cover the large six-inch scar stretching across his skull above his left earlobe. Still, the longer he lingered, looking at that scar that had irrevocably changed his life, the more that daily headache threatened to sear across his eyelids and reduce him to a puddle of pained grunts, prompting him more than his full bladder to get up and take some of the meds he kept on hand. Stretching and stumbling out of bed, popping one of the Tylenol tablets out of the bottle by the sink (as he refused to take anything heavier), he filled an empty glass and downed it with the designated pills he allotted himself only once every morning, then rooted in the fridge for the food Jason mentioned. It was breakfast tacos – still slightly warm, telling Ric that Jason hadn’t been gone long. It still unnerved him how easily Jason could move about without him knowing. Usually, he could always tell when someone was watching or shadowing him, one of those other creepy tricks of his, but instead of wondering on that, Ric simply closed his eyes, embarrassing himself in how quickly he shoved the contents of the four small tortilla-wrapped affairs down his mouth. It seemed Jason had even obliged with coffee, spotting it near the stove in a large styrofoam cup, shaking his head and grabbing it, downing it in record time as his eyes flicked to the clock. It was six past nine and he had a shift to cover soon, so he had better get his ass in gear. Turning his gaze to the chair and his coat, he grimaced and chuckled at the left mess, choosing to go with a sweater jacket and hit the laundromat after work.

Tossing the remnants of his breakfast in the trash, he wandered into the bathroom and quickly stepped in the shower once it was properly warmed. As he scrubbed, he remembered how Jason had piled up with him in the bed, linking his arms across his chest. It had felt— _nice_. In fact, everything Jason had done since taking him home had been nice. Fantastic sex – several rounds, in fact – a new phone, and breakfast to boot? _Should I tell him I can’t –_ He froze his thoughts, tilting his head to the side as the soap bar worked over his pecs, allergic to the very idea that the man was getting sweet on him, even after one singular night. Part of him wanted to text Jason back, tell him to come get the phone, that this arrangement wasn’t what he thought it was, but another larger part of him gave pause. _What could it hurt, really?_ He reached for his razor even as he washed, tilting the small mirror he kept against the shower stall down towards his face, then began to lather and shave. _He’s a fucking **amazing** lay, so what if he’s a little sweet already? _

Instantly, cold reality doused him as he ran the blade against his jaw. _You’re going to run him off when he learns what a headcase you are, duh._ His eyes lifted, staring into the blue depths of his own gaze, trying to understand why that made him both anxious and uneasy. Ever since the accident – _or failed assassination attempt, call it like it is Grayson,_ he thought – he hadn’t wanted anything to do with his past life, mostly because he still didn't know his way around the migraines, the strange mood swings and knowledge he seemed to have buried under layers of internal trauma. The simple fact was - he didn't trust his own mind, let alone dragging someone else into a relationship, which this seemed on the verge of becoming. Remnants of his own hidden past kept haunting him, lingering and festering in his dreams and in his working day with blinding headaches, a sense of sinister capabilities he shouldn’t have, and it pissed him off, made him unstable. They claimed it was normal after a brain injury, to have mood swings, even violent ones, but still – he felt like a goddamned caged animal half the time, barely able to trust his own mind, so it was just easier to stay away and alone – until Jason.

 _This is bullshit, I should just cut ties with him._ Still, he didn't want to. Frustrated with no easy answer in sight, he suddenly slammed his fist forward, gritting his teeth and grunting against the pain, frowning at his own fucked up reflection once the mirror stopped wobbling from the surprise slam of his fist. Should he tell Jason to fuck off? Or should he continue to see him? He’d never taken another person home a second night in a row, or allowed them to spend the night, sleep beside him. He just didn't know what to do and that scared him more than anything had lately.

Again, that nagging familiarity of Jason appealed to Ric’s scrambled mind, making him tense as he smoothed aftershave over the lower half of his face and went back to cleaning the rest of his form. It eased some of the ratcheting anxiety in his gut and he breathed easier knowing it. Something was off about the man, but the longer he tried to fixate on it, the more he drew a frustrating blank and teased that headache he just tried to soothe off with medication, threatening it into turning towards something dark and ugly and debilitating. Dropping the introspection, he instead replayed over their night together. Sex was easy to focus on - always had been for him.

Jason had slept beside him most of the night, occasionally waking him with deft fingers stroking his cock, only to work himself into Ric from behind, until they both groaned simultaneously and climaxed together. Ric hadn’t gotten much sleep, but still felt rested – usually plagued by headaches and nausea, especially if the dreams creeped up on him - but not last night. He'd been blessedly distracted by the movements of Jason's body, the expert way in which he touched him, so even with the shortened hours of sleep, he felt the most normal he had in ages. He paused as he shaved, frowning as he played over the previous night, as if sensing that Jason knew just when to wake him, how to take his mind off the agonizing late nights that kept that rat trap he called a brain from skittering out of control, and helped him achieve some semblance of peace.

Unable to help it, he felt himself inhale slowly, his body reacting to the internal images of Jason with him the other evening. He was still what Dick liked in a man – rugged, tall, dark-haired and muscled but not in that over-stimulated way that most bodybuilders were, a thick cock that throbbed when he came, allowing Dick to feel him _inside_ when his orgasm took him over the edge. He couldn’t help it, feeling his own cock spur to awareness the longer he remembered the way Jason looked when he took him up against the wall of his own entryway – half-crazed, fully erect, ready to fuck Ric into next week. Looking over his newly-shaven face, he put the razor away, slid the mirror out of his view, then leaned under the shower, taking his cock in hand and closing his eyes, tipping his head towards the hot water – and thought of Jason until he groaned and let the oblivion of orgasm wash over him.

* * *

Six hours later, he was milling around the Blüdhaven Taxi Dispatch, waiting for his supervisor to sign off on his fares roster, when the new phone in his pocket buzzed. Ducking his head low, he smirked at the text.

_I’m hungry. Meet at Churis in 2? Can’t stay long but I would love to see you._

Ric replied back, the thought of curried potatoes, chicken masala and papadum making his stomach rumble – but he had a standing appointment he couldn’t miss later that night. He hesitated mid-reply, thinking of telling Hutch he was occupied, but remembered what they’d dealt with last week and felt immediate guilt, even if he knew he was delaying the inevitable day when he’d have to pull away from the other PD officers, if simply due to the fact of the fire deputy figuring out his complicated past more than his urge not to dabble in that lifestyle any longer. Hutch wasn’t a dim-witted fool, proving it already in how he'd figured out Ric’s association that one time, and it would only be a matter of time before he figured out Ric’s full backstory.

_Can’t, got a standing appointment. Late night digs okay? What about Jade Palace about 12?_

Dave, his supervisor, walked up and passed him his papers, distracting him from his phone. When he looked down as he exited the Taxi Dispatch, he frowned at the lack of an answer from Jason, pocketing the cell with a frown.

 _You can’t always be there when he wants, you know,_ he told himself as he tugged his hoodie up, covering his hair as the foggy sky above turned misty and heavy, a precursor to one of Gotham’s notorious flash rainstorms. Just as he turned, heading for the subway that would take him to the coordinates Hutch told him of two weeks ago, he felt the first smattering of raindrops on his shoulder, working himself thoroughly into a sour mood the longer the cell in his pocket refused to chirp back a reply. _It was a fuck, that’s all. He got sentimental, seeing you had no food, and just left you breakfast,_ his thoughts rationalized, as he fed his metro pass into the machine, sliding past the metal turnstile that lit green, allowing him to slip down towards the trains he could hear in the distance, drowned in the rush of white-collar workers heading home. _Its just dinner, too. Maybe you should tell him he doesn’t have to try that hard with you – you already fucked him once. This can stay simple, just a hook up._

Just as he was about to grab his phone and do that, he felt a presence at his back. That odd sixth sense he had - the one that always alerted him at the strangest of times that something was amiss - made him dodge to the left at just the right moment.

Lights exploded overhead just as the sound of gunfire kicked off, making the heavy traffic of pedestrians scream and begin to run. Ric whirled, keeping his hoodie in place, even as he looked for signs of who had fired the shots – shots, he noted, meant for _him._

 _Will this fucking past ghost life of mine ever leave me the **hell** alone? _He internally raged, even as he grabbed civilians and hauled them behind him, barking at them to take the designated exits _now._ Up ahead, stood a woman in a garish purple outfit, a hollow green and white mask, blowing him a faint kiss as she fluttered her fingers his way. She stared straight at him, a dark glint in her eyes, telling him she knew exactly who she'd been aiming for.

As he stared back, a surging wave of those blinding headaches that hit him at various parts of the day made him stumble the longer he looked, unable to make out _who_ she was, just able to determine that her identity was buried somewhere _there_ , in that vacant blackness of his past life. Gritting his teeth, he rolled and dodged, ducking behind a metal trash bin, as two of her henchmen aimed to where she pointed and fired at him. Luckily, most of the civilians were gone by now and as they realized he was the target, got the hell away from him as quickly as possible. Flickers of white and black splotches played across his vision, telling him he needed to _focus_ to avoid completely shutting down with a migraine. As he closed his eyes, willing down the headache wanting to splinter across his brain and reduce him to uselessness, he suddenly felt something grip his sweater jacket and tug – _hard._

His eyes jerked open even as that muscle memory of his kicked into overdrive, but stopped just short of causing harm, realizing _who_ it was that had yanked him away from the trash bin, tugged him tight against a large, Kevlar-wrapped form. A red helmet with backlit white eye sockets staring back at him, the hulking male's form covered in grey and red kevlar and heavy knitted polyester skrim, telling Ric whomever this was pulling him away from the chaos meant business - and had the funds and foresight to back it up in gear. Two Jericho 941s were drawn in both of his hands, a leather jacket rolled up to mid-forearm, exposing elbow pads and other paraphernalia underneath. Ric had barely assessed the man before he pointed towards the firearms towards the three criminals that had started the chaos in the station.

“ _Duck_ ,” came the mechanized reply from the hooded figure to his silent inspection, just as he pulled the trigger on the two hand guns in his grip, covering their tracks in retaliatory gunfire.

“Shit!” Ric shouted, feeling his headache unleash with a silent roar, making him stumble against the man’s chest before he rolled out of his grip, then took off running on autopilot. Not knowing what else to do, he ran – hard and fast, panting as he tore up a flight of stairs, noting exits, using more of that oddly flash-forward memory to leap, whittle over turnstiles and up the sidewalk alleyways faster than his mind could comprehend. Everything blurred, and he finally came crashing to a stop, skinning his knees in his jeans as he careened to a stop, sucking in fistfuls of air into his burning lungs. Even his eyes burned when he’d closed them, the sting of fresh tears searing the backs of his eyelids, telling him he’d forgotten to blink in his fast-paced sprint. Flopping onto his back, blinking up at the sky, he felt a trickle of unease as he looked around, realizing he’d somehow managed to climb to a rooftop on the edge of the harbor without realizing he'd done so. Reaching for the phone in his pocket, he looked at the time, realizing he wasn’t going to make his training with Hutch. Texting the deputy, he rattled off an excuse for the sudden new set of digits and his absence.

_Got a phone. Can’t make it tonight. I’ll let you know when I’m free. -R_

He squinted, realizing Jason had somehow replied between his last text and his brush with – whomever the hell those two had been in the subway. He knew he could’ve called that woman who called herself Barbara, asked who they were, but immediately vetoed it. If he called, she’d take it as a sign of his interest to return to that life and that was not what he wanted to do, not in the slightest. Instead, he tapped Jason’s name in his text message app and read the response.

 _☹_ _Got a late night appt myself. Maybe I can just come by?_ _I’ll bring food._

Panting, rising slowly on shaking feet, he pocketed the cell and took the fire escape back down to the alleyway, glancing around instinctively when he felt a pair of eyes on him. When nothing came of it, he wandered back to the main street and decided to grab a simple burger, some beer and whiskey, and head back to his efficiency.

* * *

A knock woke him from where he’d been dozing on the couch, staring blankly at the news. He squinted, glancing at the clock, noting the time at around two in the morning and rolled to a sitting position, straightening his clothes as he moved to the door. He’d spent a few hours doing laundry – including his aforementioned coat – and settled in to get a heavy buzz before exhaustion at today’s surprise shock in the subway got the better of him. What the hell had happened? Who _were_ those people? Why were they firing? Had his past life been compromised now?

Peering back through the spy hole was Jason, a brown folded bag tucked under one arm. Ric found himself smiling, his chest briefly feeling tight as he realized Jason had kept his word and showed up after all, dropping what he'd been thinking immediately.

“Hey,” He drawled, opening the door, watching Jason still and catch his smile, his crystalline blue eyes startling Ric once again at how potent they were in his square-jawed face. “Whatcha got?”

“Churis,” Jason replied with a faint grin, ducking inside and moving to the kitchen, but not before he pressed a quick kiss to Ric’s mouth. Ric licked his lips, lowering his eyes to watch Jason’s ass as he moved towards the kitchen, beginning to unpack the food.

Forcing his thoughts to something else, he closed the door and locked up, moving into the kitchen, just as Jason passed him a paper plate with all the items he’d been briefly fantasizing about earlier. Ric took it to the couch and dug in, no preliminaries, watching Jason load down his own healthy portion of food before he joined him on the couch.

“You know, you never did tell me what you did for a living,” Ric said after finally coming up for air, several minutes later, watching Jason eat – something that he somehow made even that appear sexy to Ric. That, or he was just horny suddenly seeing him in his apartment again, forcing himself not to fidget and adjust his growing erection the longer he watched Jason’s jaw work as he silently ate, his eyes focused on his food. “What keeps you out so late? It’s two.”

Finally, Jason looked up, once his plate was clean, setting it aside and wiping at his mouth, lowering his gaze over Ric’s form before meeting his eyes. “I’ve got a job that requires travel. It’s not exactly…legal….so I gotta be on the go a lot,” he supplied, his voice low, even as his eyes seemed to glitter with calculation that had Ric pausing, curious at the sudden shift in his eyes. “Got some folks in the area that made it quite clear a few months back I’m not welcome, so I gotta lay low at times, take what pays, when the jobs come, to stay off specific folks' lists. Most of 'em keep me out late. That a problem?”

Ric’s eyebrows raised in surprise that Jason was being so forthcoming about his job. _Not exactly legal?_ What exactly did _that_ mean? Suddenly, his mind was filled with Hutch and the others and what Ric had agreed to do over the past few weeks and realized he could claim the same. He was a cabbi by day, but as much as he’d tried to separate himself from that past life, it didn’t quite seem ready to separate from him.

“No, no problem,” he found himself saying, watching Jason’s eyes hood the longer he stared.

“Yeah? You don’t mind dating someone like that?” He asked huskily, reaching over and laying a hand on Ric’s thigh. Ric swallowed, feeling his cock stir in his pants the longer Jason stared, his eyes lowering to his mouth, focusing there.

“Dating? Is that what we’re doing? I thought we were fucking,” Ric replied back, just as Jason leaned forward and caught his mouth. Ric groaned, thrusting his own empty plate away to thread his fingers through Jason’s hair. Jason gripped his thighs and tugged him into his lap and Ric easily straddled him, unfastening his jacket and the buttons of his shirt, quickly finding the hot muscled planes of his chest and the crisp dark hair that ran between his pecs.

“Oh, we’re gonna be doing that too, yeah,” Jason huskily rasped as Ric lowered his mouth to nibble at Jason’s throat. He bucked up, slipping his hands between them both to unfasten his belt and Ric’s, then made Ric tense, throwing his arms around his shoulders as Jason hoisted him up in his grip and moved them towards the bed.

They both hit the mattress with a muffled thump when Jason neared it, savagely ripping off each other’s clothes. “I’m clean,” he heard Jason mutter in his ear as he bit down against his neck. “Can I take you bareback?”

As insane as it was, Ric believed him and nodded, even as Jason palmed his thighs wide and settled between them, making Ric groan when Jason’s slick cock head slipped against his rim. Jason licked his fingers just before Ric took his mouth with his own, rubbing them briskly against his hole, then plunged both inside, finding that spot that made him groan and buck upwards. Jason’s muffled chuckle against his lips had him biting down on Jason’s lower lip until he groaned, removing his fingers and gripping his hips hard, replacing them with his cock and pressing forward – thrusting home with enough speed Ric grunted in shock, the sensation slightly painful, but welcome enough it eased into a slow burn of pleasure.

“Fuck yeah, squeeze down on me,” Jason grit out, sitting up and pumping Ric’s cock between his fingers as he kept one of Ric’s knees pressed against his chest with his free hand, his eyes watching where they were joined. Ric spasmed, arching up, opening himself further and squeezing down as Jason asked, making Jason hiss out a curse as he began to fuck him in earnest.

“ _Hurry._ Gonna-come—soon,” Jason panted, stroking Ric’s cock harder, twisting slightly in that way he liked when his calloused knuckles rolled over the crest of the head, and Ric couldn’t even open his mouth to tell him he was already there when he seized and began to spurt.

“ _Fuck yeah_ , like that, all over me, come all over me,” Jason groaned, long and loud and low, slamming into him as he milked Ric’s orgasm, stretching it out longer than Ric thought possible, seemingly loving the mess Ric made as his cock continued to coat them both, until he pressed in tight, gripped Ric’s hips to keep him from moving, going still enough that Ric’s memory flashed back to the previous night and how it had felt, watching it happen all over again.

Jason was staring at him, his features twisting into a rapturous look of bliss as his cock swelled then began to throb in a short series of kicks deep inside, followed by a rush of heat. Jason was coming, unable to breathe – his mouth hanging open as his eyes rolled back, face contorted, until finally his cock’s spasms slowed after the initial rush of his orgasm hit him and he suddenly groaned again – a low, hoarse cry, followed by a string of curses and praises, beginning to move again, thrusting in slow, languorous movements, even as his cock still jerked inside him, telling him he was still coming.

Ric shuddered, still spent, but immeasurably turned on that he could drag out such an earth-shattering climax from this man he just met. When the orgasm finally left him, Jason crashed down on his form, sweaty and smelling of sex and exertion, pressing kisses along Ric’s shoulder until he curled his fingers around the back of Ric’s head and took his mouth with his own, kissing Ric in a way that was reverent and sweet.

Frowning, uneasy at the prickling sensation that jabbed at his heart with the soft sweet action following some of the best sex he'd had in recent memory, he watched Jason roll off him after pulling out, then come crashing on his side of the bed, panting, head twisted away. Ric’s eyes flickered over his body, struggling to understand the scars there – the sense of familiarity that loomed along with his headaches and nausea-inducing nightmares – but before he could make sense of it, Jason was looking back his way, a faint grin on his face.

“Gotta say, you are the best lay I’ve prolly ever had, Ric." Pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder, he rolled faintly and tucked himself under the sheets. "So yeah, I’m staking my claim. We’re datin’ _and_ fucking. Move over, don’t hog the covers.”

Ric blinked, wanting to open his mouth and say he never agreed to _dating,_ let alone a phone or a permanent bed partner, but when Jason tugged the covers around them both and seemed to immediately settle into sleep, Ric couldn’t work up the urge to correct him - because the simple fact was, he didn't _want_ to. 

Sighing and giving up on the introspection and emotional confusion for the night, he closed his eyes and got comfortable, curling the covers around his hips, and pressed up against Jason’s warm side, falling asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, not a fan of Jay's current 'look' so I'm sticking with his N52/pre-52 digs. Sue me, that's what fanfic is for. Also, Ric/Dick is not going to look like that weird cross between Ash from Evil Dead and Hood 2.0 in this, either. I am NOT a fan, obviously, of both the creative and aesthetic choices lately.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some plot, lots of sex. Less sex and more plot will occur next chapter.

_For the first time in what seemed like forever, Ric dreamed. The dreams - memories, really - were foggy as always, filled with shadows, but unlike most times, this one he wasn’t afraid of them or what they might transform into. In the past, the fog always took shape in the form of faceless friends that eventually morphed into all-too-real nightmares of the enemies he’d formed over the years from the life he couldn’t remember. He didn’t know their names but he intricately seemed to know their faces - **all** of them, too many to count. _

_Relieved that the sense of foreboding didn’t permeate this one, he turned and raised a hand to the fog shrouding his form, drifting his fingers through the thick misty whirls. Surprise turned him to stone when they responded, parting and revealing Jason smiling at him - first as a boy, then as a young man, then finally as the male he remembered all too intimately._

_“Hey Dick,” Jason rasped softly, walking closer - hot and steamy from a shower, a towel wrapped low across his hips. Ric didn’t know what to say, blinking in shock when Jason grabbed the back of his neck, kissing him roughly, his tone low and heated, sparking his arousal. “Missed you. When did you get home, huh? Had enough of Bruce’s antics again?”_

_Why did Jason know his old name? How did Jason know about Bruce? Ric said nothing, just let Jason kiss him, and when he turned him to grind his hardened cock against his ass, he sucked in a sharp breath, struggling with what to say, frowning faintly but groaning and closing his eyes when Jason reached forward, stroking his cock with deft fingers._

_Suddenly, something in his mind whispered for him to_ **_open his eyes._ ** _He did, feeling shock once more coat his system, his body going numb even as Jason’s lips and teeth roughly nipped at his neck and his cock breached him. Despite the pleasure, he couldn’t move - couldn’t say a damn thing because of what he was staring at - because on the shelf against the wall rested something that made him shudder with something other than pleasure._

_A brown leather coat, a gun holster with two twin brushed chrome-moly Jerichos, and single shiny red hood._

_In its cherry chrome reflection, Jason looked up, meeting Ric’s eyes, and smiled, biting down hard on his neck just as he thrust forward._

* * *

Ric jerked awake, hissing softly as he felt Jason panting raggedly in his ear, rocking his erection between the cheeks of his ass. The light coming in from the blinds across the room was still dim, telling him it was early morning. Car horns bleeped outside his apartment from the streets, but they were weak and far away, indicating rush hour hadn’t yet taken off and most of the city still slept. His cock _ached,_ even if the unsettling dream - not a nightmare, but far from what he would call pleasant - rattled him. Too soon, he sighed and gave into the molten pleasure coursing through his veins and lighting his cock to increasingly agonized levels, dropping his head back and exposing his neck to Jason’s rough tongue as Jason groaned and angled himself to press the slick blunt head of his cock in, breaching his rim in one smooth motion.

“You’re finally awake, _thank fuck_ ,” Jason whispered, visibly shuddering against Ric’s back once he was all the way in, holding himself in place. The movement was almost easy, given Jason’s size, and Ric realized perhaps Jason’s insistent grinding against his ass while he struggled to wake might’ve sparked the dream he woke from. Part of him settled with that explanation, but a deeper part of him refused to let go of the wary suspicion it roused. Still, as Jason held himself inside Ric, throbbing faintly - clearly on the edge of orgasm - he dropped the introspection, giving into the moment.

“Come in me, I want to feel it,” he urged Jason, reaching back, gripping his hip, locking him in place. His own cock throbbed, his nerves burning for the tell-tale flex of Jason’s cock inside him to tell him when Jason exploded. His words must have been the final fuse on Jason’s restraint because suddenly a hoarse guttural noise tore from Jason’s throat - a sound he tried to stifle, but by doing so made it all that hotter in Ric’s opinion - and he felt it all again. The throb, the soft kicking of his cock, the sudden flare of heat. Jason coming inside him had suddenly become his new favorite thing.

Even as Jason hoarsely strung together expletives and praise against his ear, still filling him, he managed to reach forward with one hand, pumping his cock like Ric liked. “Your turn,” Jason rasped, nibbling along his neck. “Come for me and let me hear _you_ this time.”

It didn’t take long, Jason’s noisy climax already pressing him close to his own limits. Jason stayed buried, half-hard and still larger than anyone he’d bedded in his shortened memory, and that thought made him roughly tremble and then explode, roughly groaning out his own response to the all-encompassing orgasm that nearly obliterated all his other senses. Jason’s grip turned almost painful as he jacked him off in hard, rough tugs, furthering his descent into euphoria so intense it almost hurt. “ _Fuck!_ Jason - _shit!_ God, yeah, just like - _SHIT!_ ”

Just as fast, it was over, leaving him feeling like his soul had been scraped out of his body, processed through a blender, then roughly shoved back inside his skin.   _ **Holy. Fucking. Shit.** I could get used to this._

“ _Mmm_ , I’ll never get tired of that sound, it's beautiful,” Jason whispered, pressing another path of kisses up his whiskered cheeks, nuzzling his nose against Ric's ear. Ric tried to respond, but he was still trying to right his senses, his cock aching with echoing phantom spasms of that killer orgasm.

Eventually, Jason gently pulled back, allowing Ric to flop down onto the bed. He closed his eyes, intending to drift back asleep, but Jason’s soft husky laugh filtered past his ear and he jerked his eyes open when he felt his wrists get tugged - _hard -_ pulling him up and out of the bed.

“Hey, _what the hell?_ I don’t work for - “ He started to say, not in the mood to wake from the post coital bliss that had settled into his bones, urging him back to a satisfied deep sleep, only to be cut off when Jason plastered him against his warm front and kissed him.

“Breakfast, my treat. There’s a diner down the street that serves a mean hash,” Jason said, as if that was explanation enough. Ric scowled, earning an endearing grin from Jason as he was tugged into the small efficiency bathroom. Jason kept him busy, kissing and softly fondling his ass and cock until eventually Ric was aroused enough he was awake once more, allowing himself to be tugged into the shower.

“Why’re you this fucking chipper so early in the morning?” Ric groused, even as he groaned as Jason slowly worked him to full mast once more. Jason merely laughed, reaching for the soap bar, dropping his grip on his cock to wash him. Ric opened his eyes from under the shower spray to glare, not pleased that Jason had stopped.

“Is Sleeping Beauty mad I ruined his sleep with my cock in his ass?” Jason teased, nipping at his mouth. Ric was half a second from shoving him away with a snarl when Jason began scrubbing him, using enough force it made him shudder, his cock bobbing in response. “Guess I gotta make it up to you, then -- later.”

“ _Later?_ ” Okay, now he was _really_ pissed. He lowered his eyes as Jason lowered his own, washing over his stomach, and Ric swallowed at the eager readiness of Jason’s own body.

“Where’d you get the scars?” He finally asked, forcing his eyes off Jason’s cock. It was something he’d been curious about from day one, despite not asking at the time, thinking they were just a quick fling and nothing more.

Jason paused, his blue eyes darkening, even as his jaw tensed and he seemed to go cold and distant for a millisecond. Ric blinked, surprised at the sudden change, when Jason’s fingers and the soap bar skimmed his own ribs. “How’d you get yours?” He asked back, instead of answering.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, watching Jason rip his gaze off his scars and stare him pointedly in the face, his face a hardened mask before it flickered briefly in surprise. “I really don’t,” he admitted, shrugging a shoulder, then ran a hand through his hair, turning his head, staring at the shower wall, figuring now was as good a time as any to come clean - tell _someone_ what the scar was. He’d seen Jason note it the night before, when he had run his fingers over Ric during the night as they dozed between sessions - fingers tracing the puckered shiny edges hidden in his hair. “Courtesy of this. Bullet, long range. Took me out for a while, took memories more permanently. So, I’m serious when I say I _really_ don’t know where they came from.”

Jason said nothing, just gripped his hips so hard he almost winced. Why didn’t he _say_ anything? Why was he so rigid? Did it turn him off? He frowned, forcing his gaze back, not wanting to see what look was on his face but needing to know.

When he looked over at Jason, the look of devastation in Jason’s eyes as he stared at the wound against his skull blew him away, leaving him speechless. He’d expected shock, maybe even pity, a series of questions about _how, when, where, why -_ but the level of emotion on Jason’s face took him by complete shock. Suddenly, a searing blindness nearly made him cry out, biting the inside of his cheek so severely, he tasted blood in his mouth. _That_ dream, the one that had started out so pleasant and then turned strange and somewhat tense before he'd been woken up by Jason's urge, flared to life behind his eyelids.

“Ric? Babe? What - _hey,_ you okay? What is it? Can you -- _fuck,_ hold on, let me wash you off, I’ll get you back in bed, and..”

“ _No_ ,” he finally managed to weakly reply, steel lining his tone, feeling his whole body ripple with relief when Jason’s worried voice suddenly eased the headache that had struck. Still, he felt woozy, his eyelids closing as his eyes burned in their sockets, making his head feel like it was ready to explode. “No, I’m okay. It’s just a headache. Happens when I --” He struggled for a moment against a phantom back flare, but it soon passed, swaying against Jason’s taller form, feeling Jason wrap his arms tightly around his naked form, pressing him tightly to his chest and cupping the back of his head. “It’ll pass. Happens when I talk about it or remember something, or _try_ and remember something. _Heh,_ if you can believe this - I dreamed about _you_ last night. Like we’d known each other before...this. Were...close. Maybe even…” He trailed off before he said _in love._ He didn’t want to sound completely batshit to the man holding him, since he actually liked him and against his better judgement had slowly been entertaining the idea of a relationship, despite Jason's annoying insistence they were without asking first. Eventually, he just shrugged a shoulder. He’d already asked him if they’d known each other and Jason had looked as surprised as he seemed, so - no. It was just his fucked up brain scrambling wires once more.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll wash off and we’ll go get some food, okay?” Jason murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple, his tone so soft he finally nodded with a faint smile.

The rest of the shower didn’t involve fondling or fucking, not that Ric’s head was up for it even if he _did_ want to continue what Jason had started. Jason hovered around him as he dressed, to the point he snapped at him in annoyance, almost regretting telling him about the injury. “I’m not a goddamned invalid, I _can_ dress myself, for fuck’s sake. Don’t treat me like I’m a piece of glass, I’m already regretting telling you about the fucking headshot.”

That had snapped Jason out of it as he dropped Ric’s hand like he’d been scalded and retreated to the bathroom in stony silence to comb his unruly hair from the shower. Ric immediately felt guilty but refused to apologize. He’d drifted through the city, squatting and switching places to sleep, avoiding all of his past _family_ because he’d been sick of seeing the same mannerisms and expressions on their faces, ones he didn't even know anymore, so he was not about to witness it on the man he’d begrudgingly started to like.

“You ready?” Jason asked, once he stepped out of the bathroom, all tenderness out of his expression. Again, Ric was reminded of the hardened tough anonymous man he’d hooked up with that first night and felt his blood stir in his cock at the sight, even if the look in his eyes made Ric uneasy. No matter what face Jason wore, it seemed they all dialed into Ric’s gut and tugged his insides into knots. _I’ve got it bad for this guy,_ he realized with rising alarm, simply nodding and turning to reach for his phone to hide his swallow and panic. _**Fuck.** Fuck fuck fuck fuck - _

“Leave it, I’ve got mine if you need to call someone,” Jason said, turning for the door. “Let’s go and I’ll drop you back by soon.”

Ric let go of the cell and shrugged. “Alright,” he replied, digging his keys out of the pocket of the jeans he’d worn yesterday and been stripped of shortly after their first round of mind blowing sex the previous evening. “Hash, huh? That one of your favorites?”

Jason’s lips curled upwards but Ric wouldn’t quite call it a smile, seeing Jason’s arctic eyes still frozen solid in his shuttered expression. “Maybe. Guess you gotta go with and find out for yourself, huh?”

Ric’s shoulders relaxed at the slight tease in Jason's voice. Despite Jason’s remote expression, his words implied he was forgiving Ric’s earlier snarl - _this_ he could deal with. He hated being an asshole when the male had been nothing but responsive and concerned but _hated_ the looks he got when he went into his injury - an injury garnered by a past life he couldn’t remember that skirted past the line  that distinguished things as ‘legal.’

Ric followed Jason down, staring blatantly at the way his jeans cupped his ass as he moved while he wasn’t looking. Just as they pushed out the side door to his apartment complex, he opened his mouth to grin and tease Jason that maybe it was _his_ turn to be on top, but as Jason leaned over a motorbike, popping the lid to a compartment curving over the back bumpers of the impressive machine, he suddenly couldn’t find his voice as a searing headache so intense, he felt himself edging towards a blackout, blared across his mind. He felt his knees buckling as Jason's icy expression exploded into one of concern as he darted forward, trying to catch him before his face kissed the pavement.

 _**No fucking way.** No way, it's not possible, it's not -- _He didn't finish the sentence, blackness swallowing him whole.

Jason had been fast - almost _too_ fast - to hand him a black helmet to wear from the back of his motorbike, but Ric had seen what Jason hadn’t wanted him to all the same just as the the ghosts of his nameless past rushed into a crescendo of banshee wails inside his skull. 

Inside the bottom of the storage compartment, buried under other items and tucked deep, had been the faint traces of a brown leather bomber jacket and a chrome red hood.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heroes in Crisis spoilers in this chapter, just FYI.

_This time, the episode was like it was in the beginning - right after that shot had scooped out part of who he was - turning him into a ghost, an invalid, an amnesiac half-human with little function other than relearning how to walk, talk, and pick up forks and spoons and managing to feed himself without spilling his food all over his face in the process. Lights blazed, ricocheting inside his skull, and the fog lifted to reveal jagged edges of a ripped apart chaotic past - all pieces to his old identity, arranged in a macabre procession that didn’t fit together or make sense. These kind of episodes were the worst of all - the kind that didn’t stop for what felt like hours, making his sanity stretch to its limits, the edges of his flexible psyche fraying against the frail attempt of his mind to make sense of what he was seeing, only to weaken further and risk losing everything._

_“No, stop,” he whispered, clamping his hands over his ears, his wrist over his eyes, his thumb pressing against his mouth. “Stop it._ **_Stop it._ ** _STOP IT!_ **_STOP!_ ** _”_

 _The helmet - the_ **_red hood._ ** _Jason had it -_ **_Jason was the Red Hood._ ** _Infamous Gotham vigilante -- but what else? Something mushroomed in the back of his mind, something_ **_critical_ ** _that he was missing, if he only stared into the abyss a little longer, he might --_

 _“Oh my, this is terrible,” a feminine voice whispered to his right that was most definitely_ **_not_ ** _part of him. He stiffened, immediately dropping his hands to snap his gaze towards the source, wincing and gritting back a scream of anguish as the images warped and surged just out of his peripheral vision._

_It was a woman - young by adult standards but still old enough to be categorized as such - with flowing red hair and green eyes. Something about those eyes triggered a whisper in the mirage of twisted imagery that kept flickering around them, making his lips move before he’d fully recognized the urge. **Lilith.**_

_“_ _You’re Lilith Clay,” he said aloud, watching her smile and nod, reaching forward and taking his hand. He wanted to yank it back, wary of why she was here - why she had a face, when so many torn and scraped up memories didn’t - but when she grasped his fingers with her own, suddenly everything went completely silent and faded away, until nothing was left but him and her against a sea of blackness. He blinked, the escalating tension in his head easing, and looked at her as she smiled again._

_“It stopped,” he offered lamely, watching her smile widen. He wanted to release her grip, but she shook her head and held firm when his fingers went to further loosen hers, feeling the wail of those memories threatening to come stampeding back. He allowed her fingers to tighten once more and the sensation faded._

_“Are you here, or just part of...this?” He asked, gesturing. He knew her name somehow, but not who she was. She looked at him, her eyes etching towards sadness, and he frowned - feeling impotent and frustrated that he didn’t know_ **_her_ ** _or_ **_why_ ** _she was sad. Was she sad for_ **_him_ ** _?_ **_Why?_ ** _How did they know each other?_

_“I don’t know you,” he began, his tone terse - laced with barely suppressed frustration and anger - at his nearly fatal injury, at the past that had brought this on him, wondering what kind of fucked up man he was to invite this kind of madness into his life - when she held up a hand, making him pause mid-excuse._

_“I know,” she replied softly. She looked around him, sighing faintly and shaking her head. “I suppose I should blame Bruce or the others for not reaching out, but then...from what Jason has told me, you refused help. You wanted nothing to do with your past life, so I honored those wishes and stayed away. But Dick...you should have told_ **_someone_ ** _about the headaches and the pain. We could have eased that for you.”_

 _“My name isn’t Dick, not anymore,” he hissed, wanting to jerk his grip from her hand, even if the fractured memories of his mind roared to life again and threatened to snap his sanity. “Don’t call me that. I don’t know you and I don’t_ **_want_ ** _to know you. Let me out of here.”_

_Lilith smiled, shaking her head, the sadness he saw before returning tenfold, even as her grip remained firm. “No, sorry, I won’t. I won’t knit your memories together yet, not until you ask, but I **will** make all this a little more bearable...because that’s what friends do--Ric,” she added at the very end, making him frown as she closed her eyes, reaching for his other hand. _

_He rolled his eyes, handing his other one over, figuring he had little choice. She was inside his mind and from what he could tell, he didn’t know where he was or how he was doing. The last thing he remembered was wandering down the apartment stairs with Jason, about to go to brunch, when he saw that damned_ **_red hood_ ** _in the back compartment of his motorbike._

_He stiffened again, remembering that Jason was the Red Hood, vigilante extreme, and opened his mouth to say something, but everything faded to white before he could speak._

* * *

Suddenly, he could move - smelling motor oil, faint traces of gunpowder, and stale musty air - and he blinked his eyes awake, even as he felt the springs under a mattress quietly shake as someone leaned over him.

He didn’t think, just reacted like he had all these past few months, reaching for the first thing he found, a lamp shade, jerking it off the white clapboard nightstand by the simple iron bed frame and utilitarian sheets he laid on. Swinging it, he stopped it mere millimeters from the target’s throat that loomed over him, making the form go prenaturally still.

Blinking again, he noted it was Jason who was looming over him - gaze hard, eyes intent, even as they grew soft and a small smirk was tugging the edge of his lips, as if he was biting back a smile. He was wearing a red hoodie, a black shirt with a spray-painted red symbol across his chest, and his fingers and hands were covered in black gloves. _The hell?_

He shifted his eyes, seeing the same woman who’d entered his dreams standing at the end of the bed, staring at him with eyes so soulful he almost wanted to comfort her, nevermind it being _him_ that was the damaged one.

Just then, he realized he didn’t feel _anything_ \- no phantom headaches, no sense of searing nausea and vision pain and lack of motor function when he realized he could recollect who they were and that they were tied to his past. No more black dots edging at his vision, just that nagging sense of familiarity that screamed at him from that yawning hole in the back of his mind.

“Where the fuck am I?” He snarled, shoving back, keeping the lamp shade’s wicked end pointed at Jason’s throat. He forced down the slow burn of sexual awareness that Jason always managed to ignite in him, even from that first day at the bar, steadfastly ignoring the way his crystalline eyes seemed to grow hotter even as his expression looked downright chilling.

“My place,” Jason shot back, keeping his eyes trained on Ric even as he stood and stared at the two of them. His eyes kept flickering between them both, body tight - poised to fight or run - but his panic continued to rise when he realized he didn’t need to do either one. Jason, from what little he could remember of the few seconds he’d encountered him all gussied up as the big bad Red Hood, was a trained killer - potentially even better than him. Lilith, it seemed, was some sort of telepath or psychic and didn’t need physicality to take him down...so why weren’t they?

“You said,” he started, licking his lips and glancing to Lilith as Jason’s eyes narrowed and lowered, staring at where his tongue traced his mouth, and _goddammit_ he would _not_ look and get riled up at how that look on Jason’s face turned him on, “--we were friends. Friends like the others from my past I can’t remember?”

Lilith nodded, glancing with a frown towards Jason, who hadn’t taken his eyes off him. Ric slowly lowered the lamp shade, casting it aside, not giving a rat’s ass if he broke it or not, watching Jason warily as he backed up a few steps, running a hand through his hair, glancing once more at Lilith. She _had_ stopped the pain, even if he didn’t know her, and he forced himself to acknowledge what she did. “Thanks for--what you did.” He gestured to his head, but turned his eyes back to Jason, making sure the promise of violence gleamed in his eyes as the man made a move to approach him, watching as Jason narrowed his gaze but stayed planted. _Not so fast, fucker. You_ **_lied_ ** _to me. We_ **_did_ ** _know each other and you fucking_ **_lied._ **

“Why is she here?” He asked Jason, his tone brokering no room for sweet talk or fuck-me eyes. Jason said nothing for several seconds and Ric grew angrier by the minute, about to turn and storm out, fully prepared to use whatever crazy reflexive muscle memory at his disposal to make sure he not only got away, but made sure Jason knew how pissed off he was about using his lack of knowing his past against him to get close. “Answer the fucking question, Jason. _Why is she here?_ ”

“You’re kidding, right? You were having a goddamned seizure on the street,” Jason growled, stepping forward, and for a few flashes of a second Ric worried he would be able to take him. Something in his eyes eased his tension, though, and Ric merely stepped back as he looked over at Lilith, who watched the exchange with a pinched look of concern. “I was out of my fucking mind, worried I’d done something that set you off. Babs told me about the headaches, Alfred said you--”

“ _Jesus fucking hell,_ you _knew_ about all that? And you fucking _lied_ to me? Are you one of the Batclan, then? What the hell else aren't you telling me, huh?” He turned, shouting at Jason, furious and embarrassed, remembering all they’d done the past few days. He cast a haphazard glance towards Lilith, who continued to say nothing, but looked away when Jason growled and stepped forward - eyes wild and more intense than he’d ever seen them. If Ric didn’t know any better, he’d say Jason looked panicked, torn to the bone by some emotion he was not about to even _attempt_ to label, but shoved the larger man back before he could touch him. “ _Don’t,_ ” he hissed, holding up a fist and pointing at him. “Not right now. Just-- _don’t._ I don’t want to hear it.”

“He meant well,” Lilith suddenly interjected, glancing over at him as Jason turned, storming for the window, staring out it and crossing his arms over his chest, his jaw feathering as he grit his teeth. Ric _refused_ to feel guilt, even as it welled inside his chest, sensing Jason’s hurt at shoving him away. Still, he refused to give into him just yet, because the simple matter was Jason _had_ all but lied, even if it was by omission of the truth. They had a history, it seemed, a very _complicated_ one, and Ric wasn’t sure if he wanted to know it all. He didn’t want to entirely dismiss the man from his life just yet, not wanting to admit that aloud while this strange woman who’d healed his wounds stood nearby, because he was drawn to Jason in a way he couldn’t describe other than in a primal, visceral fashion, but that didn't mean he wasn't mad as hell. Stripped down to his basic parts, Ric didn’t want to let go of Jason, but he sure as hell wasn’t forgiving him for lying to him just yet.

“What do you know?” Ric spat back, trying to still latch onto that fizzling anger the longer he stood there, watching Jason’s brooding gaze stare out the window, noting the street beyond. Ric's brief glance around the space told him they were in a garage of some sort - more industrial warehouse and car storage than a home - but he felt safe being in Jason’s space all the same.

Lilith frowned, sighing and looking over briefly at Jason. “You two have a lot to talk about, it seems. I think being here only hinders that, so I’m going to go. I should call Garth anyways, I left abruptly this morning when you called me in hysterics.” That made Ric blink, even as Jason bristled.

“Tell Donna thanks for passing along the message,” was all Jason said, keeping his back to the two of them, even as Ric stared between the two of them. _Who was Donna?_ “I owe her.”

“You don’t. This is Dick we’re talking about,” Lilith smiled, then stilled, glancing over at Ric with worried green eyes. “Ric, I mean. Whatever you’re calling yourself these days, you're still the same person we all care about. In any event, I’m around if needed. Garth and I’ve taken some time alone, after Wally and Roy--”

Ric could feel the black somber mood that settled over the large room without even being a telepath, sensing Jason’s shoulders tensing dangerously even as Lilith hiccuped back a soft sob, pressing a hand to her mouth as her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. He blinked, raising an eyebrow, even as her gaze dropped and she waved off what she was saying. Whomever Wally and Roy were, they were involved in something dark, potentially deadly, and it was a sensitive topic to them both.

“Anyways,” she murmured softly, her voice pained as she cleared it, offering him a faint smile. “I didn’t lie when I said I am here if you need me, Ric. If you want your memories restored, I can attempt that. I can’t guarantee all of them will be perfect or balanced, but I could try. Think about it - after you talk with Jason and he tells you why he found you.”

Ric blinked again, eyebrows raising even further. Jason had sought him out for something regarding his past? Why? Thinking back, he whirled, watching Jason not move from the window, his shoulders tense. Did it have something to do with that deranged woman in the subway the other day?

Gentle feminine arms circled his neck, jarring him out of his thoughts. He tilted his head, feeling Lilith embrace him in a quick hug, then pecked him on the cheek and smiled, moving towards the door, then disappearing through it - _literally_ \- in a shimmer of green-yellow magic.

_Okay, that was both creepy and impressive as hell._

“Is she…?” He started, about to say ‘a wizard?’ then stopped, realizing how idiotic that sounded. This wasn’t fucking Harry Potter, this was Blüdhaven.

“An old teammate, from your past life. Telepath, psychic, teleporter….amongst other things. She’s a meta.” Jason supplied, making Ric jerk and turn, noting Jason had once more demonstrated his stealth capacity and snuck up on him in the few moments he’d been dazzled by Lilith’s impressive departure.

Ric stared, a faint scowl tugging his brows down, even as Jason stared icily back. For some reason, Ric saw through the outwardly toughened exterior, sensing some sort of internal panic and insecurity that leached out from his eyes. He wanted to tell him he was forgiven, but couldn’t quite make himself say anything just yet - because what he had done was _not_ okay, not in the slightest.

“When you were laying on the pavement like that, I about lost my fucking mind,” Jason suddenly blurted, that honed exterior cracking for a fraction of a second, making Ric jolt in shock at the depth of pain he saw lancing across Jason’s face. “If you’d had some kind of setback because of me, I --” He grit his jaw, squeezed his eyes shut, then lunged forward so fast, Ric barely had a chance to get his arms up before Jason barreled into him, knocking the air out of him as he collided with the wall behind him.

Just as suddenly, Jason was kissing him - deep, thrusting actions of his tongue with a wildness he hadn’t felt on him even in that first hookup - sparking Ric’s own arousal even against his determination not to respond to him, not until Jason explained himself, but his body wasn't listening - it only wanted what Jason could give him and dammit if his cock wasn't immediately straining against his jeans. _Fuck yes,_ his mind whirled, even as his fury rose, but he let it continue as he tried to make sense of what was coming next. He grunted at the impact against the wall, his fingers gripped in Jason’s hoodie, able to throw him off from the traction he had - but he didn’t. Instead, he gave into the siren pull of their erotic chemistry and kissed him back as lust exploded in his veins, hearing Jason’s hoarse moan as the kisses turned savage with the use of teeth and tongue against his lips and lower chin.

“When I heard you got shot, especially after where I was, down south, after Bruce kicked me out and Roy--” Jason shuddered, something akin to a growl of anguish or a sob of pain tearing out of his throat, lowering his mouth to nip roughly at Ric’s neck, feeling a searing flash of nerve pain where his teeth marked him, knowing it left a bruise even as Jason worked his jeans loose, gripping his cock and working him to an even harder state than he was, “I wanted to fucking _lose it._ I’m so sick of the endless cycle of violence, and when Tim said you wanted out, completely out, I _told_ myself I’d stay away, but…”

Jason dropped to his knees, shoving Ric’s hips against the wall as he licked his cock from where it stayed sprung from his clothes, making Ric moan and throw his head back. _Christ, yes._ He was mad - _furious,_ actually _-_ but this was _Jason_ , someone he didn’t know but pulled at him on a elemental level, and he was on his knees and licking his cock.

He didn’t stop there, gripping fistfuls of his jean-clad thighs, then took him deep, all the way to the base. His lips and tongue worked him, strong and unforgiving, just like the man and his volatile emotions, and Ric shuddered at how much it aroused him. He was embarrassingly close, his balls drawing tight as Jason sucked him down like he wanted to consume him whole, and before he realized it, he was poised to come.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hissed, shuddering and twisting against the wall, clawing for purchase in Jason’s hair with his fingers, even as he arched his back and thrust his hips further, burying his cock inside Jason’s throat. _“Oh fuck--fuck--_ **_FUCK!_ ** _”_

Jason groaned, making the neediest, sloppiest noises as he swallowed him down and Ric couldn’t stand it any longer, his orgasm crashing through him, leaving him drained, sagging and slumping down onto the floorboards. Jason followed him, licking and sucking, then eased off him, pressing kisses to his jaw, cheeks, face, and mouth, tugging him against his chest. Ric was startled to taste the salty tones of his own release on Jason’s tongue but kissed him back, sill in shock at Jason’s show of emotions.

“Don’t think you can suck my dick every time you lie to me and think all is forgiven, you know, for the record,” he suddenly groused, drowsy from the killer orgasm that Jason had wrenched from him.

Jason chuckled faintly, then sighed and nodded. “I know. I’ve never been good at discussing stuff like this. Sorry, just--sorry.”

“At discussing what, exactly?” Ric asked, going still, his head still buried against Jason’s chest, where they laid sprawled against each other, half slumped against the wall of his warehouse-turned-apartment. _Did he mean..?_

“How I feel. How you make me feel,” Jason murmured in such a soft tone at first, Ric had trouble hearing him. He sighed again, shrugging a shoulder, gripping his shoulders. “Come on, man, you _gotta_ know how I feel about you. You think I act like this around anyone?”

Ric lifted his head and glared at Jason, watching Jason stare at him. He grinned, rolling his eyes, but a sober expression washed away the boyish attitude, replacing it with an sincerity that had his stomach tightening. “I mean it,” Jason whispered, “I--”

 _Here it is - the moment of truth._ Ric tensed and held his breath, waiting for what he was about to say, but Jason’s phone beeped then, ripping the moment away from them both. Jason snarled, refusing to let go of him as he scrambled for the phone in his pocket, yanking it out and hitting the green talk button, putting it on speaker.

“Yeah?” Jason all but growled out, making Ric give him a faintly amused stare.

The voice that spoke surprised him - it was Babs. “Jason...is Dick with you?”

Jason’s eyes flicked towards Ric and he cleared his throat, then spoke. “Yeah, why?” He was once more reminded of how Jason had lied, and Babs had as well - having been trying to bring him back into the Batfamily fold as earlier as a week ago, and hadn’t mentioned anything about Jason or his association to the Batclan. He sat up further, feeling her pause over the line, tucking himself back into his pants as he watched Jason’s expression turned closed and cold once more - the shield he wore for the outside world, and him when he was brought back to the reality of the situation. “What is it?”

“Did you tell him yet?” Babs asked instead, making Ric freeze and glance over at Jason. Jason stared back in that frosty fashion on his, but by the silence, Babs must have picked up on the fact that the answer was ‘no.’ She sighed, then started in again. “Both of you need to meet me. My base of ops? It’s in a zone Bruce won’t work tonight and I think I can work the systems to give you some cover, but Jason--”

“He’s coming with me or I’m not coming,” Ric suddenly blurted, watching Jason slightly wince at the mention of Bruce, then blink in surprise at Ric’s words. He ignored the look, realizing there was some bad blood there - _what,_ exactly, he didn’t know and planned to find out - but he didn’t want to be without Jason with whatever Barbara Gordon was leading them into. He briefly registered that he hadn’t checked in with Malcolm and the others, wondering if they were cluing into his absence. He also realized he was going to have to call the dispatch and take the night off. He almost wanted to laugh bitterly - his past was sucking him back in, even after he’d dug in his heels and said _no more._ ”Where and when are we supposed to meet?”

“I’ll text Jay the coordinates. After dark.” She hesitated, then spoke softly once more before clicking off the conversation. “I know this wasn’t your choice, but….it’s good to have you back, Ric.” Ric said nothing and the call went dead.

As he stood, ruffling a hand in his hair, he sighed and closed his eyes, rolling his shoulders. Something was going down - the attack, the sense of someone or _someones_ watching him, the new Nightwings, Jason’s reappearance, Babs nagging him over and over about something she just wouldn’t come out and say - it wasn’t going to stop until he saw this through. After this, then maybe - _maybe_ \- he’d be able to resume that life he’d wanted, alone and separate from the chaos of this past of his.

Opening his eyes, he saw Jason - already standing and leaning cross-armed against the wall, using that stealth a man his size shouldn’t possess, staring at him with an icy expression that didn’t match the intensity of his eyes. “You okay?” He asked, his voice remote, but tinged with enough buried concern, Ric could sense it was there.

“Yeah--no. I don’t know.” He shrugged a shoulder and ran his fingertips along the wound against his skull. “Fuck if I know how I’m supposed to feel.” He watched Jason stare at him, realizing he meant it about _everything_ \- them, his life now, his past he couldn’t remember, his unwillingness to get dragged back into the vigilante lifestyle but seemingly having no choice in the matter, that decision having been made long ago, by a version of himself he didn’t know or recognize.

Jason frowned, tipping his head to the side. “If you want out, just say it. I’ll make you disappear. No questions, no expectations. Just get gone, you and me. Alone.”

Ric smirked faintly, shaking his head. “And if I wanted that hash you promised before my brain decided to have a freak out?”

Jason’s expression eased back into that boyish grin he had come to enjoy. “Then let’s go. It’s a date.”

Before Ric could correct him - _Hell no, it's not a date, you fucking lied to me and insisted without hearing me say ‘yes’ back to you -_ Jason had already grabbed his keys and his wrist and was tugging him towards the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adding another chapter, may end up with a few more. Not sure again how long I will run this, just letting my muse take me where it wants to go, but I don't expect this to be an overly complicated fic.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for RHatO Issue #24 in this entry, for those who haven't read it. Pretty much going forward, it's current comic spoiler heavy. Random side note - anyone read that crazy shit King did in B#71? Going to try and tie that into this too, wish me luck. >_>

As they moved towards the entrance, Jason paused and passed a small nondescript black box Ric’s way, about half the size of a lighter. Arching an eyebrow, he slid the item into his coat pocket before Jason could tell him to do so, figuring whatever it was, it was important. Almost immediately, a whisper in the back of his mind suddenly hit his consciousness, identifying the object - this time clear of any searing headache or jolt of nausea - _It’s an audio jammer, experimental tech, provided by Wayne Industries or an aftermarket attempt of their patent._ As the unbidden information welled up in his mind, he was relieved when he continued to stand on his own two feet, following Jason out of the loft, idly watching Jason lock up. Whatever Lilith had done, she’d meant it when she’d said that his headaches and blackouts would no longer be an issue, more relieved than he expected when the sudden spring of knowledge didn’t make his legs buckle. Still, as he ran his fingers over the device and cast a glance Jason’s way, he realized that Jason finally seemed serious about having ‘the talk’, if the item was any indication.

“You’re this paranoid?” He asked, after watching Jason complete a peripheral sweep around the warehouse and engage some sort of CC television. Jason briefly glanced his way as they moved towards his motorbike parked around back, blending into the other various cars and motorcycles in various stages of reconstruction. Remembering the smell of motor oil, Ric faintly chuckled, realizing Jason actually _did_ run what seemed to be a legitimate car garage underneath his apartment - as a cover, or a legal source of funds to supplement his after hours gig, Ric wasn’t sure. Ric stilled as he realized, between that and the guns outfitting his lawless persona, it explained some of the calluses on his hands. It made him wonder, then, what the scars across his body were from. That time, however, his mind chose not to supply the answer, remaining frustratingly blank when he tried searching for an explanation. It also didn’t volunteer anything on his own.

“The old you never asked so many stupid questions,” Jason commented dryly, thrusting the black helmet he’d previously tried to give him before he’d almost ended up faceplanted on the curb outside of his apartment from the back of his motorbike towards him, when Ric was done staring around curiously at Jason’s place. He scowled at Jason, who appeared to be returning to his coarser nature now that they both knew his mind’s weaknesses would no longer be affecting anything except his memory, ignoring Jason’s measured grin as he snapped the buckles into place underneath his chin and slid in behind Jason on his motorbike. Cranking on the motorbike’s ignition, Ric hugged himself closer to Jason’s body and felt Jason’s ripple of laughter tug at where his fingers were threaded through his coat - and off they went.

Most of the drive was a blur to Ric. The streets had picked up by that point, as the hour was  late enough in the day that the city had now come alive, awake and teeming with other citizens going about their business, so Ric chose to keep quiet, perched against Jason, with the sound of idling engines and distant car horns to lull him into silence at each of the traffic stops they made.

Because of this, it took him a second to realize Jason’s body had gone stiff underneath his at the sound of a cop siren bleeping behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he noted a familiar face paired with aviator lenses and stilled, feeling Jason’s right arm flex, as if he was about to lay down ground and put space between him and the cop. Gripping Jason tightly, he leaned forward, making sure his voice was loud enough that he could be heard over the chirp of the siren and the other idling cars near them. “Pull over.”

“What? _Why?_ ” Jason cast him a harsh glare over his shoulder, his eyes moving from his face to the cop behind them, nearly unreadable, but what Ric could decipher showed an edge in Jason he hadn’t noted before - a lethalness that was barely restrained. He’d been right that Jason had been seconds away from separating them, or doing worse, but with what the cop behind them knew about him currently, he couldn’t take the risk.

He sighed faintly, leaning a little more forward, squeezing his arms around Jason’s tense middle. “Please. For me. He won’t stop following us otherwise, may even put out an APB. Let me see what he wants, then we can go, okay?”

“You know that dude?” Jason asked, instead of pulling over. Ric nodded, tapping on his side to pull into a side alley, but not able to miss the brief darkened expression that flickered across his face as he curtly faced forward and did as he asked, easing into an empty alley several feet away, keeping quiet as he did so. The cop car followed closely behind, until there was enough distance between them and the main street, the driver stopping and turning off both the siren and the car. Maybe even as short as a few hours ago, it would’ve amused Ric to see a small flare of jealousy tighten Jason’s features, but they had bigger issues - like _who_ was inside that cop car and why he was seeking him out in broad daylight, while on the job.

Peeling off the helmet and pulling off the bike, Ric turned and nodded to the approaching older man, while Jason kept the motorbike idling behind him. “Detective.” Canting his eyes up and down the alley, he noted they were alone - at least, seemed to be. Where were the others?

Alphonse Sapienza glanced between him and Jason, his eyes hidden behind mirror-backed sunglasses that gave nothing away. Ignoring Jason for the moment, Ric trained his eyes towards the cop car, curious if the recorder was active. Regardless, Ric trusted the tech Jason had asked him to slip in his pocket to work, but kept his question low. “There a problem, Sapienza? Hutch gave you my message, didn’t he?”

He used Alphonse’s name to alert Jason that he did, in fact, know the man standing in front of him - well enough to hint of the man’s activities and what he’d recently taken up in against his better judgement. Even now, he regretted his actions months ago, setting his old life ablaze, knowing on some instinctive level it was a bad choice after he’d lit that first match and set the place on fire - a fire, that while deadly to everything else in the place, hadn’t destroyed his vigilante gear. Now, the detective in front of him, as well as three others, had used those items to pick up where he left off. It wasn’t a wonder _why_ they did it; Ric wasn’t stupid. Ever since he had hung up the mantle, the crime in Blüdhaven had only gotten worse. It was time for _someone_ to do something, but he still wasn’t sure if that someone was _him._

Alphonse said nothing for several seconds, and Ric realized he was trying to read Jason and his addition to the scene Ric no doubt painted for him. He’d already missed training, then had left his phone back at his place and if the others had tried reaching out, he hadn’t been available. Glancing over his shoulder, he shivered at the icy stoicism dripping from Jason’s glower at the cop by his side.

“Who’s that?” The detective asked, keeping speculation out of his voice, even if Ric knew it must’ve been eating him alive. Ric struggled with what to say, finally shrugging a shoulder and glancing back towards Alphonse. “He’s with me. We were going to get a bite to eat. Want to join us?”

Alphonse said nothing, just kept staring at Jason, to the point Ric felt anxious. Finally, Alphonse shook his head, glancing back his way, handing him a slip of paper with an address scrawled across it in black ink. “Meet up here, tomorrow night. Shit’s hit the fan in a _big way._ We could use the assist, if you’re still in.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ric replied, not even thinking of saying no, watching as Alphonse nodded his head and then moved towards his car, not glancing at either of them as he flipped his sirens on, spoke something into his radio, then took off full throttle down the alley, leaving Ric standing with Jason’s heavy gaze on him.

Saying nothing, Ric returned the helmet to his head, then came back to Jason’s motorbike, kicking his leg over his bike and pulling close once more. “Let’s go.”

Jason said nothing, but by the harsh kick of his bike, Ric could tell he was angry and had questions. _Yeah, well, that makes two of us now, doesn’t it? Sucks when the shoe is on the other foot, huh?_

*******

 

A full terse fifteen minutes later, they were pulled in front of _Mother’s Place,_ a nondescript diner off the upper end of the North Blue Line, across from the Narrows and Blüdhaven’s industrial shipping yards. The area had been known to suffer from gang wars, some of which had tapered down over the years, when Ric had been active as Nightwing. Now, without his presence, it seemed like it was once more turning seedy and unsafe, but something about the diner made  Ric pause, noting it seemed like an oasis in this toughened section of town.

“This place looks nice,” he offered, watching Jason turn off his motorbike and kick the side stand into place, leaning off the bike and taking Ric’s helmet from him. Jason said nothing as he shoved the item in the back compartment in his bike, canting his head sharply towards him as a silent command to follow him inside. The darkened edges of his emotions still showed and Ric fell quiet, simply following him into the diner. _He’s still stewing over Alphonse? Surely, he doesn’t think --_ He paused, briefly thinking back to his interaction with Alphonse, wondering if Jason thought that the older detective was another lover of his. Part of him felt guilt at that, because often times that _was_ the case, but then reminded himself that Jason had all but lied the over past few days about their own complicated history and that abated some of the remorse that welled up inside his chest. Scowling briefly at the back of Jason’s head, he followed him inside.

Within moments, they were sitting in a corner booth, away from others that had greeted Jason with a familiarity he hadn’t expected, especially from an older waitress in her late forties, two plastic menus set in front of them. Jason still hadn’t said anything, looking at the menu with a stubborn set to his face that had Ric sighing and setting his aside. “Alright, enough of the silent stoic treatment. What’s eating at you?”

Jason’s crystalline gaze shot up from the menu, almost having Ric squirm against the searing blast of the unspoken accusation there. Still, he said nothing, until Ric offered him a conciliatory smile, raising his hands slowly in surrender. “I’m not Lilith, Jason. You’ve got to tell me what you’re thinking.”

“You fuck him?” Jason’s brusque tone could have melted glaciers with how arctic it was. Ric blinked, raising both brows, but shook his head. Jason leaned forward, his expression looking almost predatorial as he swept his eyes over the parts of Ric he could see, his next words hearkening back to what Ric had tossed his way back at Jason’s place. “I don’t share, _for the record.”_

“Never said you’d have to,” Ric replied, staring back with just as much silent fury as Jason had him. _Why don’t you just raise your leg and piss all over me while you’re at it, asshole? Just to make sure you mark your territory._ Thankfully, the tension-filled moment was shattered as the older waitress that had greeted them when they entered wandered up, all smiles and compliments for his companion, either oblivious or completely forgiving of Jason’s clearly dark mood. Jason, just as quickly, glanced at her and shrugged off his mood like a wet garment, flashing her a handsome grin out of nowhere - one that set Ric’s lower gut aflame the longer he stared between the two, saying nothing - just listening to the woman chatter for several minutes and then take Jason’s order. When she glanced his way, he smiled briefly, handing her his menu. “I’ll take the same.” It didn’t matter he didn’t know what the hell Jason had ordered, too focused on watching the interaction and the expressions on Jason’s face to pay attention to what food he’d just agreed to eat.

Once the woman left, he merely stared, watching Jason’s brief ambient attitude shift back towards more murky, indiscernible territory as soon as he met his stare.  “So, I’m here. Talk.”

“Let her get us coffee first, she’ll leave us alone after that,” Jason replied - and right on cue, the woman returned with two black coffees and a small dish of dairy-free creamer, chattering for a few more seconds Jason’s way and then rushing off to greet a few new customers that had stepped inside, patting his shoulder as she left them alone.

“She’s sweet on you, you must come here often,” Ric spoke, sipping on his coffee, watching as the older woman smiled and grabbed two plastic menus, directing the new couple and their toddler to a booth. The family exchanged pleasantries with the woman as well, laughter carrying from their place across the other end of the small diner.

“Every other Tuesday,” Jason said, idly rapping his fingers against the table, tilting his gaze to  look out the window. Unsure if Jason was avoiding the demand he begin speaking due to nervousness or something else, Ric’s eyes followed Jason’s own to stare out the window, seeing what had him so distracted. They raised slowly in surprise as he watched two thugs staring from across the street, pointing at Jason’s bike then lifting their gaze directly to where he and Jason sat inside the diner. Curious, Ric tossed Jason a brief glance out of the corner of his eye, watching Jason’s eyes narrow as a cold smirk curled his lips upward, chilling Ric all the way to his bones. Glancing over at the thugs, he saw the effects Jason’s expression had on them both, watching them both backpedal and turn, jogging down the street and around the corner of a building in the distance, out of sight in moments.

As if sensing Ric’s burgeoning questions, Jason murmured lowly as Ric watched the streets with new interest. “They used to case this joint, stealing what money was in the register and forcing that sweet old lady to allow them to run drugs in the back. A few months back, I made sure to put a stop to it.”

Ric jolted at that, glancing sharply back at Jason. _A few months back? That’s when he showed up, looking out for Gladys?_ That was roughly around the time he’d been shot. Ric swallowed, turning his gaze back to Jason, watching as he kept his stare trained on the streets - assessing for more threats or just avoiding Ric’s gaze, he wasn’t sure. “I check in less often than I used to, but I make it pretty clear they can’t do that here no more. Seeing me here scares them off when they think to get bold again. Gladys needs this place, she’s got a son with MS. He needs meds and this is the only thing that gets her the money to give him that when Medicaid won’t cover all the bills. The cops tried to help when she’d call, but there’s only so much they can do--and that’s if she’s lucky and gets a clean one. So many these days are dirty.”

Ric’s eyes turned and took in the older waitress once more. He realized then she was dressed slightly different than an average waitress and realized she was the _Mother_ that the diner’s name referred to. Glancing back towards Jason, hearing his words about the state that the city as a whole was in and the fact that most cops were on the take, assisting crime lords rather than putting them away, he watched Jason merely offer a shrug, not denying the growing horror that must’ve been etching its way across his face.

“Why weren’t you just honest with me from the beginning? About our past?” He finally asked, trying to find his bearings, inwardly annoyed at the weakened husk his voice had diminished to.

Jason didn’t answer for long seconds, using that time to drain his cup of coffee instead. Ric stared, growing more agitated by the second when he failed to answer the simple question of _why,_ opening his mouth to argue further when Gladys walked up, refilling their respective cups, forcing him to silence his irritation and smile faintly her way.

“This that boy you always going on about?” He finally heard Gladys ask, before she pulled away, inspecting Ric like a mother did one of her children’s prospective dates. Ric blinked, watching Jason shift in his seat and color faintly as Gladys grinned faintly, extending her hand Ric’s way. “He didn’t tell me you were so handsome, you know. I’m Gladys. Peter been treating you good, I hope?”

Ric took a few seconds to think on the answer, not missing how Jason’s eyes shot towards his, holding a buried anxiety there that Ric felt compelled to soothe. He _had_ treated him right, outside of the outright lying. The sex was phenomenal, Jason had been sure to feed him and even garnished him with a phone when he hadn’t needed to, even seeking out Lilith - something that Ric realized probably made Jason uncomfortable, asking for help - when his brain fits had become a risk to his health. So, _yes,_ he had. “He has, ma’am,” Ric confirmed, watching the relief in Jason’s gaze bleed into his smile for a fraction of a second before he clipped his expression back to a blank look that made Ric inwardly chuckle. _I see right through you, you know._

The thought made him sober, though. If he could read Jason so easily, how easily could he read him? From the outright jealousy to the earlier panic in Jason’s eyes, he wondered if somehow he couldn’t, as Ric was so different from the man he’d been previously. Tilting his head back, he gave Gladys an honest smile and slid his hand across the booth, taking Jason’s hand. “Real good, ma’am. Don’t tell him I told you,” he dropped his voice, leaning in towards the older woman, who leaned forward with a low chuckle, playing along like he was whispering something highly conspiratorial into her ear while he let his eyes meet Jason’s own, firming his grip around Jason’s suddenly limp fingers, “but I _may_ intend to keep him, if he keeps it up. Well, after he makes up for one faux paus, but if he plays his cards right...I won’t let him go. Depends, really, but I like him a lot.”

Gladys chuckled, patting Ric’s shoulder, even as Ric stared at Jason, watching a mixture of heated arousal and humbling condolement flash in the depths of his eyes. “Well, I’ll surely not say a word, young man,” she responded in kind, keeping her tone low but knowing Jason would hear every word, “but don’t be _too_ hard on him, you hear? He’s been worked up about you for _weeks,_ you know.” Ric nodded, watching as Gladys sat up and glanced over her shoulder, returning her voice to a normal octave. “Lemmie go check on y’alls food now, it should be ready soon.”

She winked at Jason’s tentative smile and left them both. When Ric went to withdraw his hand, Jason held firm, the blue in his eyes flaring deeper. Ric raised another eyebrow, gesturing for him to _finally_ do what he promised. “Well? Going to talk now?”

Jason sighed and nodded, sipping at his coffee with his other hand as he held firm to Ric’s with  his other. “Would you have given me a chance that night in the bar if I had told you who I was right away?”

Ric frowned, thinking back to their first night together and already knowing the answer by the grim look of satisfaction on Jason’s face, watching Jason nod curtly and sip at his coffee once more. “ _Exactly._ I heard how hard you shut Babs down, so I didn’t tell you. I planned to, though.”

“When?” Ric whispered, adding the next tidbit, even if most of his anger had fled. “Before or after you fucked me?” From the harsh look on Jason’s face in response to his question, it had provoked him in all the wrong ways, but it was the truth. Why have sex with him that night? Why not just share a drink? Why not just --

“I hadn’t planned on it going that far,” Jason hissed, leaning forward and interrupting his thoughts, his shoulders blocking out the rest of the diner as his bright blue eyes clashed with his own, his expression going icy. Ric snorted, no longer afraid of his stone-cold expressions, now that he knew the truth - they were merely to hide his own deeply emotional responses when he was afraid or angry. Despite his roughened exterior and somewhat barbaric sense of justice, Ric somehow knew he wouldn’t hurt him - quite the opposite, it seemed. He feared Ric hurting _him_ , which made the puzzle of a man sitting across from him all that much more frustrating in his eyes. How deep had their relationship gone before that bullet had destroyed his memory?

“I just--” Jason growled, interrupting his introspection, “ _You_ were the one that suggested it, and…”

“...in a token of humility and complete transparency, omitted we knew one another before my life went to shit along with my memory, and fucked my brains out anyways,” Ric snipped back, sarcasm dripping from his tone as he interrupted Jason’s words, watching a flicker of unease and guilt flash across Jason’s furious face.

Before Jason could go on, his blue going electric in suppressed fury and alarm, Ric sighed, waving his other hand, signaling a truce. Jason immediately fell quiet as Ric closed his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, feeling Jason’s hand tighten on his own from where they had kept their fingers threaded loosely together across the booth. He could even hear the subtle inhalation along with several ragged exhalations from Jason’s side of the booth, telling Ric that he was anxious over Ric’s next words.

Regardless of the circumstance, Ric _had_ wanted it. If Jason had paused three seconds before fucking him to tell him they had a past, would he have stopped him? The more he stared, the more he knew the answer. _No. I wouldn’t have. I’d still have let him do all that he did - begged him to, even._

He didn’t regret the night, or the days after that initial hookup, when Jason had told him they were dating and an item. Jason’s interpersonal skills needed _serious_ work, but something about what they had together spoke of a _deep_ connection that he’d allowed to vanish into that black ether he called a mind when he’d chosen to ignore all of his past life. Opening his eyes, he looked across the booth at Jason, who stared back with such intense emotions in his eyes buried too deep for Ric to decipher them all, made him wonder just what _Jason_ was feeling with all this. All the signs were there - jealousy, panic at his blackout, the passionate wild sex they’d had, the loving embraces afterwards.

 _This man_ **_loves_ ** _you._ The question, he realized, now had less to do with how much Jason had lied, but if Ric wanted to rekindle whatever they had lost - and in essence, fall again for the man in front of him. Would he hurt him, in the long run? What if he never measured up to that past version of himself, the one Jason clearly was still deeply in love with?

Perhaps interpreting his silence as a debate about Jason’s hand in their current situation rather than his own, Jason suddenly leaned forward, his stony eyes looking intense - filled with equal parts fury and desperation. “ _I fucked up_ , okay? _I get it._ I just…” Just when Ric was about to correct him - that he wasn’t concerned about Jason’s part in this dilemma, but whether or not he could compete with the memory of who he used to be - Jason blew out a breath and released his hand, grimacing as he ran a hand through his hair and closing his eyes, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. It’s just...I hadn’t seen you in _months,_ and then...there you were. So fucking gorgeous as always, forever out of my league, even with a damned bullet injury rattling your mind, and I just... _wanted_ you. So fucking much.”

Eventually, he tilted his gaze and looked outside, looking exhausted, despite his expression still stoic. Ric swallowed, alarmed at the sudden change, so when Jason murmured so softly, he almost barely heard him - focusing on his words at the last second. “Christ, this feels like arguments we used to have - you telling me I’m wrong; me trying to explain that _yes_ , I fucked up, that I didn’t mean things to go so south like they did, only for you to storm out the door and not call me, even when I tried for _weeks_ to tell you how sorry I was. You always had this code, yanno? That I just--couldn’t walk. Your life in the Vigilante community was different than mine, you see - so you couldn’t ever comprehend some of the stuff I did, or just flat out _wouldn’t._ ” Ric frowned, not sure what he meant by that, but listened as Jason continued.

“After a few weeks of giving me the cold shoulder, you’d somehow manage to show up just when I was about to give up on us and--we’d make up in a few weeks with a string of wild fucks and ' _I-lov_ -” He immediately went silent, cutting off what he’d been about to say, but Ric winced as he heard the unspoken words hanging between them. Jason glanced at him, sucking in a shuddering breath, shrugging a shoulder and continuing, even if he failed to meet Ric’s eyes. “I just--maybe, yanno--hoped things would be _different_ this time. Back then, you were Bat's Golden Boy and I was the fucked up second course palate cleanser, only used to wipe the perfect taste you were to the Supes community out of Bat's mouth. Turns out, it was a shit deal for everyone involved, especially me. I _wanted_ to tell you...so many things. I just--when you told me you wanted me...when you didn’t even _know me_ you wanted me...I got trapped in the idea of it all. You were just a guy, I was just another guy - we met at a bar, we liked each other, we had fucking _amazing_ sex, and when I said I wanted more, you agreed.”

Ric blinked, hearing the jagged emotions buried in Jason’s softened tone, watching as he slowly straightened his shoulders and glanced back at him. Ric said nothing, watching Jason study him intently for several moments then, like flipping a switch, his eyes went blank, a smile tugging on his lips, Ric watching as Jason looked up just as Gladys returned with their orders and placed their food in front of them both.

Ric watched, fascinated, as Jason went once more through the pleasantries - perhaps a touch too rough for someone with eloquent manners, his answers and questions still vague, giving Ric the sense that very few knew the _real_ Jason and somehow, over the years he’d forgotten with that bullet, that Ric had gotten to know that aspect of the man in front of him. Long after she left, he sat there, staring, watching Jason eat his food for several minutes. Finally, Jason glanced up, his blue eyes clashing with his own, and a tension in Ric’s guts eased when he realized that blank expression was gone once more - the _real_ Jason was back and worried about his silence.

“It’s okay,” he finally said, picking up his fork and poking through his meal - which tasted splendidly, if he did say so himself - making sure to hold Jason’s gaze when he re-emphasized his words, watching a hesitancy glaze over that look in Jason’s eyes, dulling their previous intensity. “It’s _okay,_ Jason. I get it. I do, really. I..” He trailed off, pausing as he chewed, staring over at Jason before finally deciding to go for broke. “I think...I loved you. Maybe I still do, I don’t know. I just -- you’re….different for me, too.” He offered a slow, shy smile. “ _For the record_ ,” he added, brokering their new catchphrase as he waited for Jason to react.

Jason stared, his eyes blazing so bright Ric briefly forgot to chew the food sitting inside his mouth, feeling his throat go dry, before the vividness in his eyes mellowed to a warm glow instead of something that seared him down to his soul. Finally, Jason smiled faintly in turn, the molten look in his eyes making Ric’s cock stiffen slightly inside his jeans. “For the record, you’re different for me, too. Always have been, even now.”

Ric’s eyes widened, realizing Jason had read straight through him - to the heart of what had been bothering him. “Yeah?” He whispered, wincing as his free hand reached up, grazing that scar across the side of his skull. “Even knowing this? I might not be..like I was. I might not ever be.”

Jason shrugged, sipping at his coffee and plucking at his food. “That’s fine, too. Maybe now you’ll understand why I sometimes chose to end things...for good.”

Ric stared, realizing what Jason meant. He used guns in his vigilante game, sometimes resorting to killing when the need called for it. Perhaps the old Dick would have said _no, never,_ but after suffering what he did, he found himself saying nothing in response, just offering a hum of noncommittal, like while he didn’t approve, he wasn’t going to chastise Jason’s choices. The faint smile Jason sent him eased his worries. While he wasn’t ready to go to such extremes, after being hurt the way he had recently - he could see _why_ Jason did it. Maybe that was why Jason had finally rekindled their romance, having been injured the way he had, he could understand Jason’s plight, having been the only robin to ever suffer a true death at the hands of one of Gotham’s villains.

Ric froze, choking on the bit of egg that he tried to swallow, reaching for his cup of coffee and hastily swishing down the contents as Jason cast him a puzzled look. His memories were coming back - slow, parceling out only small snippets - but they flashed what had happened to Jason in his mind’s eye. Snapping his gaze back to Jason’s face, he let the sympathy shine in his eyes as he squeezed Jason’s hand. “I remembered. Where your scars came from.”

Jason went utterly still for several seconds, his eyes unfocusing, not even breathing. Then, just as quickly, he began eating once more, ignoring Ric’s concerned stare. “Jason?” He whispered, leaning forward himself. “Are you...okay? Sorry, did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

Jason shook his head slowly, pasting on a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but Ric could tell he was doing to alleviate his anxiety. “Nah, just--bad memories for me. Some of yours seem to be coming back, though.” He added, tapping the side of his head as he looked over Ric once more. “That’s a good thing, despite you knowing some of what makes me so fucked up now.”

Ric frowned. “We clashed over how you worked in the past, didn’t we?”

Jason snorted, a subdued chuckle eliciting past his lips as he nodded, spooning a helping of hash into his mouth. “You could say that.”

“I didn’t agree on the killing.”

“Or the bashing in of Tim’s face, or my attempts to fuck up Bruce’s face, reputation, and life,” Jason added darkly.

Ric stared, sensing the buried hurt that still lingered - and perhaps would never fully go away. “Why?” When Jason refused to answer, Ric gently squeezed his hand. “Why, Jason? Help me understand. My brain isn’t functioning like it used to.” He offered another gentle smile, watching Jason’s clipped gaze jerk back to his own.

Jason sighed and rolled his eyes. “For forgetting about me, not avenging me. I’ve seen you do more for civvies on the streets -- I felt…. _forgotten_ , somehow.” He waved a hand as Ric frowned, feeling immediate remorse for something he couldn’t even remember. “I realized, later, you sort’ve grieved in your own way, just...didn’t feel like it at the time. I mean, I’d been beaten to death with a fucking crowbar by that clown freak, so I wasn’t in the most reflective mood over your actions after my…” He trailed off, refusing to say the word death.

“Were we together back then?” He suddenly asked, curious.

Jason laughed, shaking his head.”Nah. You were drowning in pussy, I was still a hot-headed kid with a crush. Then, I was dead...then not dead, training with Talia... “ He noted Ric’s puzzled look, flushing faintly, “Got my own dose of crazy woman, then cleaned up, came back, tried to extract my pound of flesh, didn’t really succeed but by then, didn't have my heart in the game, and we, erm…”

“Started seeing each other, blurring the lines further,” Ric filled in for him, watching Jason nod slowly, finishing up the last remnants of his meal off his plate. Ric sat silently, absorbing the story, still puzzled why Jason kept such a low profile, especially with his cryptic words the following night they were together. “But why can’t you come around Gotham or here openly? You said people don’t welcome you here. Do you mean Bruce?”

Jason fell quiet again and Ric did the same as Gladys came over, clearing the table but refilling their cups, telling them to take all the time they needed. By Jason’s stare, the next elements of their murky past - namely his own - would be hard to pry loose from the man. “Seems I’ve missed a lot, of your life and mine,” He finally murmured, sipping on the refill of coffee. “Want to fill me in? Just...go over things since I got shot, if that’s easiest.”

Jason’s shoulders went rigid and Ric paused, curious and puzzled. _What did I say?_ Jason savagely grabbed his coffee mug, sipping at the contents and meeting Ric’s eyes, blurting out a statement that shocked him. “I shot Penguin point blank in the face. On live TV.” Ric just stared, mouth agape, as Jason continued in a clipped tone. “Didn’t remove my helm before they started filming, thank _god_ , but -- you get the jist. It was a mess. That’s why I have to lay low whenever I show up near Gotham. I’m...no longer welcome, Bruce made sure to drive that message home _loud and clear_ , not to mention every cop in the city has me in their scope to take down, dead or alive.”

 _He...what? Shot Penguin? On_ **_live TV_ ** _? What did Bruce do?_ Ric stared, realizing Jason was serious, even when part of him hoped Jason would grin and tell him he was only joking. Initially repulsed, he reminded himself that he knew the man in front of him, wondering what had motivated Jason to such extremes. Again, filtered memories briefly eclipsed in his mind of all the incantations of criminals they faced, many of which came and went like the seasons, never _truly_ gone. Had something happened that Jason had felt death was the only way to stop it? Smothering his horrified reaction, he simply stared blankly towards Jason, slowly able to parcel the small sliver and anxiety buried in Jason’s eyes as he continued to inspect his face.

“Can I ask why?” He asked slowly, wanting to know the reason, even if he didn’t agree with the choice he had made.

Jason smirked faintly, his jaw feathering as he sipped on his mug, his fingers trembling when he set down the cup, studying it seemingly in detail. Ric watched, in awe that his reply seemed to humble and relieve Jason, wondering what his past self would have done. Screamed at him? Thrown his food in his face? Demanded he turn himself in? “That’s more than Bruce gave me when he caught up to me,” he murmured cryptically before looking up and meeting his confused gaze.

“I...was in a bad place,” Jason started, shrugging a shoulder, his eyes briefly lowering, telling Ric this was as hard for him to tell as it was for him to listen. “My dad...hell, you grew up in the circus. I grew up on the streets. It was... _literal hell_ sometimes, yanno?” Suddenly, Jason’s eyes jerked up to his, a rueful smile on his face. “One time, we snuck in with scalped tickets and I watched you perform with your parents. You were...ten maybe? I was...seven, maybe eight at the time? Hell, I don’t know. All I know is it was almost like love at first sight, before I realized what love was.”

Jason laughed weakly, shaking his head as his eyes flickered, looking unfocused for a minute, even as Ric struggled to breathe, eyes widening as Jason recounted back to part of his past that he _could_ remember, before glancing back his way with a grin that did more for him than anything they’d done previously. “I just remember watching you, seeing you literally _fly_ up with those ropes and swings _,_ so fucking _free_ , and I remember thinking to myself ‘I want that. I want to be him, or _with_ him...up there, in the wind, being so happy.’ I…” Suddenly, Jason shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking off that memory, making Ric want to kiss him to ease the sudden sadness in Jason’s features, but held himself back, not wanting to interrupt him when Jason started talking again.

“Anyways, my old man was a goon...for the crime syndicates in Gotham. His last job was for Penguin. It wasn’t so much my old man’s demise that got to me, but...the idea that this fucker who destroyed _so many lives_ just kept walking free. He killed my pops, prolly didn’t even bat an eye. He kills innocent kids and women all the time - and it just doesn’t fucking _matter._ No one gives a fuck about these kids. Bats thought bringing them in, letting the justice system do its job would fix the problem, but...there ain’t no fixing people like that. He just _keeps_ coming back, like some damn bobble toy. _Bam!_ ” Jason made a soft exploding gesture with his hand. “You get him, put him away, he goes down. _Bam!_ ” He did it again, his eyes going so dark it made Ric’s guts twist in unease and sympathy, all at once, realizing where this story was going. “Then, before you know it, he’s out _again_ ! You think he _cares_ he killed kids, women? No, he doesn’t...and he just _keeps fucking doing it_ . Over and over and _over_ . I was...so _sick_ of that. _So fucking sick of it_ ...so I made a choice. I _chose_ to put his ass down, end it, so no more of those women and kids died because of him, because Bats couldn’t or wouldn’t do it...so _I_ did.”

Ric swallowed, staring, seeing Jason not as the hostile man in front of him suddenly, but as that broken street kid with a questionable and misleading father, staring up at him from the seats, wanting to be free of the wheel of injustice that plagued the city that he’d witnessed, even since waking from that fatal shot, but couldn’t - not in a way that he thought would work. So, he’d decided to change things, in the best way _he_ knew how. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him, making him sway slightly at the realization, knowing where Jason was heading with this, remembering when he’d asked him what he did the other night and Jason’s reply. “The hero community didn’t approve, I take it. What--” He hesitated, but wanted to know. “What did Bruce do to you? You said he sent you a message. What happened?”

Jason smirked, his expression bitter, but so much more than that - pained, hurt in a way that seemed like devastation, even if he hid it marvelously well. Perhaps their past is what allowed Ric to see it, buried like it was. “You could say that. Bruce found me and beat me nearly to death. Roy--my best friend since my early days as the Hood--stopped it, got me out, but it was obvious I was no longer welcome--in the city, or as part of his little caped crusade.”

Ric sucked in a sharp breath, shock flickering through his whole system. _Bruce_ **_beat_ ** _Jason?_ He suddenly remembered, in another flicker of unbidden memory bursting forth from the dark recesses of his mind, of Babs talking about Bruce, about what the term _family_ meant to him and her, what he was a part of - a _legacy_ of justice in a city that needed a light to guide others in the darkness. Just as quickly, another flicker of something shot through his mind - this time without pain, thanks to Lilith - and he remembered a call he’d made. He couldn’t tell where he was, when it had happened, just that it was before the blow that scrambled his brain and what he had said during that phone call, and _Alfred_ responding back. He closed his eyes, forcing and cajoling that memory forward, hearing Jason murmur his name questioningly. He raised his hand, letting it unfurl in his mind, speaking it as it came to him, hearing Jason go quiet in the background.

“I...called Bruce. We saw...what you did. All of us. It was all over the news. I called Bruce to see what he wanted to do, I was worried about you. He said--he said he had it handled.” Ric swallowed, opening his eyes, frustration welling up as the memory began to degrade, but able to meet Jason’s eyes and got a few more words out, before it was completely gone. “After that, I...couldn’t reach you. I thought you’d just taken off, miffed at Bruce yelling at you...and maybe even me, since we’d just had another one of our fights--don’t know what about. Then…”

“You were shot, and forgot everything,” Jason supplied, having been watching Ric with laser focus, as if surprised that Ric was able to supply part of the narrative on why they’d lost touch.

Ric didn’t know what to say, staring at the table, feeling his world crumbling. _Jason_ **_loved_ ** _me. I had someone who_ **_loved_ ** _me and I almost gave it up - gave it_ **_all_ ** _up, just because I was scared of a past I didn’t understand._ The realization had him swallowing, feeling slightly nauseous, barely hearing Jason’s words in the fog of thoughts swirling inside his skull. He’d almost permanently lost someone who made him feel _alive,_ even if he was clueless on why that was - and suddenly that felt like the worst choice he’d ever made in his life. He looked up quickly, blinking, and Jason’s eyes were once more soft as he repeated the question. “You beginning to remember? Part of it, at least?”

“Not like you think. Just a fraction of it -- just the conversation, but -- yeah,” Ric murmured, “some of it.” He let out a slow breath, scrubbing a hand across his face. “Jesus.” He met Jason’s stare, tilting his head to the side, uneasy at the glimmer of something in those cerulean eyes of his he suspiciously thought might be love.

“If I had told you to get lost forever...would you have?”

Jason stared, saying nothing again for the longest time. Eventually, he sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

Ric nodded, squeezing his hand. “I’m glad you didn’t. Get lost, that is.”

Jason grinned back, shaking his head slowly. “So am I.”

Ric returned the smile, then looked outside, tensing as he saw a flash of something he almost swore he could recognize. _What--?_ Before he could open his mouth, the diner exploded.


	6. Chapter 6

**Five Years Ago**

He stood there, panting raggedly, sweat licking his brow, as he lowered the eskrima sticks gripped tightly in each palm, staring in mounting horror at what he was seeing. 

He was in his own hideaway, returned from a long solo mission and ready to turn in for the night - the one he’d established in secret away from the Batcave, his fellow Titans, and the Superhero community at large. This was _his_ place, and it had been invaded by none other than the infamous Red Hood.

What he was seeing surely had to be a joke. The Red Hood stood there, slowly unmasking himself, and he _almost_ launched himself at the man that had balanced along the tightrope strung between anti-hero and villain for so long, he didn’t even know now what side he was on - until he saw his face. When the Red Hood was gone, he felt his heart plummet inside his chest.

The Red Hood wore the face of his  _ dead brother. _ How could this be?  **Jason was the Red Hood?**

_No!_ His mind raged, thinking it must be an illusion or mirage - _Psycho Pirate? Psimon? No, they were in Arkham. Clayface? No, he’d been quarantined in Ironside Heights by Wally a few years ago when he’d attacked Central City_ \- even as he heard the clatter of one of his sticks hitting the floor. “Jason?” 

He barely recognized his voice - a weak, pitiful thing strained with shock.   **Jason was the Red Hood?** “How...are you _alive_? How are you _here_?”

Jason smirked back, shaking his head with a tsking noise as he flung the cherry chrome object across the cavernous space of his hideaway, ruffling a gloved hand through his shorn locks. Dick couldn’t believe what he was seeing, but couldn’t think of anyone with the capacity to trick him into having Jason standing there, no longer a child but now a man grown. If he didn’t immediately know that face, he’d have clung harder to the idea he was being tricked, but - no. He knew that face as aptly as Bruce did, as shell shocked as Bruce had been - and as devastated - when Jason had died in such a horrible fashion. It was a mark on both their souls, one he’d never forget as long as he lived.  _ But how...? _

As Dick stared, knowing he looked as rattled as he felt, he watched a keen sharpness enter Jason’s crystalline gaze as he stared back. Was that surprise as well as anger? The resentment he could understand, a mirror reflection of his own remorse at his actions from years ago. If he hadn’t been so damned consumed with stepping out from Bruce’s shadow, if he’d been there for Jason, like he’d consequently been there for Tim - too late to atone for Jason but resolved to do right by any Robin after that horrific moment in the Batclan’s history - would things have been different? At times, that kind of guilt was suffocating. 

“You really don’t know, Dickie Bird? Find that odd, given who you tutored under. The Great Bats,  _ greatest detective in the world _ , and he couldn’t figure out what happened to his supposedly-dead protégé?  _ Really? _ You expect me to believe  _ that _ ?” The bitterness in Jason’s voice was obvious and the worst part was, Dick had no excuse to explain why Jason was standing before him and why there was an empty casket with his name on it on Wayne property. “I think you gave up, Pretty Bird, just like dear old dad.”

Dick couldn’t hold back the wince at those cold sharp words. If this really  _ was _ Jason, wasn’t it true in the end? Jason, for the briefest second, looked every bit the villain as rage contorted his features when Dick visibly flinched at his choice of words. Just as suddenly, he glimpsed something buried even deeper - pain. Idly, in the back of his mind as he stared, warily meeting Jason’s gaze as he gained control of himself once more, he was jolted with shock to realize how  _ much _ Jason had changed over the years. Age had matured Jason from a rough-around-the-edges teenager to a beautifully cruel, well-honed man, taller than he was even now and more muscle-bound.  _ Whoa, what? No, no. This is all wrong, just -- no.  _ Not expecting himself to be attracted to what had become of Jason, he simply remained quiet, trying to regain his composure. Swallowing, he forced down his response, shaking his head slowly, still drawing a blank for what to say.

_Sorry for giving up so easily? Sorry I wasn’t there for you when you were younger? Where the hell have you been? How can I make it up to you? I’m just..._ ** _sorry._**  All of this ran through his head, and all of it read as miserably shallow compared to the deeply horrible wrongs done to Jason by the Joker that one ill-fated day in the past.

Jason merely scoffed, snorting and shaking his head, taking a menacing step forward. “What, no words from you? Nothing else to say to your deadly departed brother? Not even a ‘welcome back, little bro?’ Shame on you.” Jason’s questions interrupted his shocked thoughts and he jerked his focus back to the man standing across the room, still several feet away from him. When his questions continued to go unanswered -  _ just what the hell did he want him to say that would make any of this any better? _ \- Jason raised a gloved hand to his chest, wincing dramatically as he stepped forward, every movement dripping with arctic sarcasm. “I’m  _ hurt _ , Dickie Bird.  _ Truly hurt. _ I mean, I know we weren’t the best of pals, but that’s cold...even for me.”

Dick opened his mouth, finally shaking his head, repeating an abbreviated version of what he’d said earlier. “ _How_ …?” This wasn’t possible, Bruce had been _adamant_ Jason hadn’t survived, so how --

Jason chuckled, the sound ominous - almost lethal - edging close enough now that Dick went on alert, watching Jason for any sudden movements that would indicate what he planned next. As angry and bitter as Jason was, he fully expected an attack. By the gleam in his eye, Jason knew it and enjoyed taunting him. “Can’t say I’m surprised, I wasn’t ever his favorite. I guess the memo I was still kicking got lost in the mail.” 

Dick’s eyelids twitched at that - was he insinuating that Bruce knew Jason was the Red Hood and hadn’t told him? The more he thought about it, the more he realized the possibility could be true. Bruce was notorious for playing things close to the vest, especially in regards to emotions and family. It was why, after so many years, Dick had been so invested in leaving his adoptive father’s shadow. He couldn’t keep following in Bruce’s footsteps and  _ not _ end up just as coldly damaged like Bruce was in the long run. Jason grinned, as if sensing Dick’s turmoil at wondering if Bruce had known and just kept it from him, but he firmly said nothing and watched Jason for his next move.

As Jason’s eyes scanned the hideaway Dick had designed - and kept secret, so how Jason knew where it was, he couldn’t understand - he struggled with what to say next. Jason must’ve known what this place meant to him and chosen here to confront him, knowing it would throw him off-kilter; a place that he kept his own Superhero habits away from all others - from Bruce, from the ghosts of Gotham City and from the other Titans. If things went south there, there would be no back up. It was just him and Jason and the complicated, contorted past between them.

Jason paused in front of the one thing that Dick hadn’t ever removed - feeling compelled to keep it and remind himself of where he had started and which paths he refused to take again - his old Robin suit. The longer Jason stared, his eyes darkening as he inspected the old costume, an identical one to Jason’s own for a time, he almost felt embarrassed and remorseful for the lost time between them, but it quickly dissolved the second Jason once more turned back his way, meeting his gaze with another sneer. With that single look, he suddenly remembered all that Bruce had told him about the Red Hood’s dossier. 

Since the Red Hood had become active, the Gotham criminal underworld had been turned upside down. He had worked both with them and against them - breaking and forging allegiances with seemingly no connection or logic, leaving both heroes and their foes confused to his motives. One thing was certain, however. Chaos followed the gleam of his helmet and the blast of his guns - and in some instances,  _ death _ . Watching him now, he realized all the rumors were true. Jason had killed people and from the looks of it, didn’t regret it - maybe even enjoyed it. He wanted to be sick.

“You’re a fucking killer,” Dick hissed suddenly, feeling Bruce’s voice well up in the darkness of his past - all the lessons he’d absorbed under his study. How had Jason missed the mark so badly? What had _happened_ to him to make him think that was ever okay, or even an option? He remembered what Bruce was like the years after Jason’s death, feeling a sick sense of déjà vu hit his gut. It made him wonder about the missing years Jason had been away, without a Dick or Tim to guide him towards the light - was that what had happened? Who’d been by his side while he’d been gone? Who’d shown him that _killing_ was the best answer? 

Most importantly,  _ why the hell hadn’t Jason told any of them he was alive? _ It had been  **_five years_ ** .

Jason’s eyes went stone cold, like a killer’s. Dick swallowed as Jason stepped even closer, but Dick refused to be the first one to come to blows. Only if Jason started something would he go there.. “ ‘Cause your way works so fucking good every time?” He murmured in response to Dick’s accusation, canting his head to the side as he boldly met Dick’s gaze. “Tell me...in the years since I died, how many has the clown killed after he’s escaped Arkham? We all know he has. Many, many times. So.. _.how many _ ?”

Dick began to shake his head, raising a hand - that wasn’t the point of this - but Jason’s roar of rage interrupted his attempt to backtrack and focus on what Jason had done. **_“How fucking many?!”_**

Dick sighed, lowering his arm, answering honestly. “I..don’t know. I’d have to check the League’s files...and even then...I don’t know.”

“Don’t know, or don’t  _ wanna _ know?” Jason sneered, stepping closer, making Dick bristle again. What exactly was he implying?

“I don’t kill, Jason. Ever, if I can help it.” He growled, wishing like hell suddenly he hadn’t dropped his eskrima sticks when he first watched Jason remove his helmet. He was close enough now that if he rushed him, Dick would have to seriously hurt his brother to avoid getting placed in a compromising position. It pained him to think that Jason might hurt him, but he could see the resentment glimmering in Jason’s eyes the longer he stared.

Jason merely grinned, shrugging a shoulder, edging even closer. “Maybe you should.” When Dick stiffened at the suggestion, his fingers curling into fists, Jason chuckled darkly. “Make exceptions to your perfect little rules, that is. The clown should’ve been put down _ years _ ago, and yet...dear old daddy lets him roam free, ropes him in, gives him to the authorities, and it starts all over again.”

“Where are you going with this, Jason?” Dick snapped, stepping back a few paces, watching Jason’s eyes trace his every move. The alertness he saw there had his gut tightening in panic. Jason hadn’t lost his edge in his years away, he’d honed it to an even sharper one. He recognized the alertness there - he saw it in his own movements and the other Titans he worked alongside. Surprise flickered through his body but he blocked it from his face. Who had trained Jason? As Jason paced him easily, following him with a hawk-like intensity, Dick knew it was now a matter of figuring out if his training was better than his own. Either way, he didn’t like the way Jason could track his movements. “I’m not going to suddenly be pro-killing,” he continued. “You  _ know _ this. Stop wasting your breath. Why didn’t you tell us you were alive?”

“You didn’t even go to my funeral,” Jason continued on blithely, ignoring Dick’s questions, tilting his head as his eyes narrowed accusingly. Dick blinked, feeling a flush bloom in his cheeks, immediate and sharp remorse lodging in his throat, freezing his vocal chords as he met Jason’s eyes - so like his own and yet not. There was no way to deny what Jason had said, it was blatant truth, he  _ hadn’t  _ been there.  

“I just….” He started to say, but lost track of the right words to say halfway through yet again, just simply shaking his head and falling quiet after a moment. What could he say? He couldn’t change the past. This whole thing was the culmination of all his own worst fears. Jason had become the very thing Dick was afraid he might have become if he’d stayed smothered under Bruce’s mantle and never taken seriously, never allowed to make his own choices and realize he could find healthier and better ways to help those in need, without going to such dark places like Bruce.  _ So what is it about this that really makes you uncomfortable, huh?  _ He thought to himself, glancing around the room, refusing to stare at Jason, despite keeping his senses poised for an attack.  _ That Jason could’ve easily been you? Or that you want to fuck him as well? _

“You just  _ what _ , Dick?” Jason growled, drawing Dick’s gaze back up to his face. Jason looked furious and hurt and suddenly reminiscent of that cocky, too-sure-of-himself teenager that Dick couldn't seem to spare more than a few seconds with whenever he ventured back to Gotham, which had been a rare occurrence even then. “ _ Well? _ I’m fucking here now. Tell me all you wanted to over the years. Tell me how you resented me, thought I wasn’t worthy of the Robin mantle, that I was too hot-headed to do the job, that I deserved what the Joker did to me, that you felt so guilty that you just.. _.didn’t look _ .”

Dick glanced sharply back at him, horrified. Jason merely stared back, making him swallow thickly at how close to the truth his words hit home, except they were all wrong. Shaking his head, thinking it best to diffuse the situation, leave and call for backup while rashly thinking how he could maybe keep Jason here, subdued until Dad knew what to do with him and this revelation, he shook his head, turning to go. He wouldn’t fight Jason, not today, not unless Bruce ordered it directly to him, now knowing what he knew - who the Red Hood  _ really _ was. 

“Always running away, Pretty Bird. Not satisfied that the ‘Little Wing’ of the family grew up to be the Big Bad Red Hood? Running off to tell Daddy about me?”

Dick halted mid-step, glaring over his shoulder. “I’m not running away,” he snapped, even if he realized suddenly he was. He wanted time to think this over, decide what to do, tell the others, then make up his mind how he felt about what he’d just learned what his brother had become. He turned back at Jason, narrowing his eyes. “The life you lead...this isn’t what Bruce taught us, Jason!” 

How could he not see the predicament Jason had put him in, forcing Dick to decide if Jason should be turned into the authorities or not? He didn’t want to be the one to make that call.  _ Just no. Not now, not until I can think this over. Maybe not ever. _

“No shit,  _ detective _ ,” Jason murmured, suddenly moving with a lightning precision like Dick feared, slamming forward and pinning him against the wall. Part of Dick didn’t  _ want _ to fight back, feeling as if he deserved to be punished for failing to realize Jason had been alive all this time - alone, angry, feeling abandoned - allowing it to happen. Grunting as his shoulder blades and wrists were pinned painfully against the concrete backing of his hideaway, he waited for the blows to start, yet blinked when they didn’t. He could hear Jason’s ragged pants, see the furious expression in his eyes, thinking over Jason’s words as he kept him caged against the wall.  

_ He called you detective _ . He froze, staring at Jason openly, realizing Jason must have been spying on him for...who knew how long.  _ Jesus.  _

He’d just applied to the Blüdhaven PD last week, hoping to not only work the streets at night, but during the day - able to make a difference in the public eye, while assisting in things a cop couldn’t at night, as he’d been doing for years. It had felt at the time the perfect compromise. 

“What did you say?” He whispered.

“I admit, you’d look good in the uniform, even if I prefer this one,” Jason murmured, leaning close enough Dick could smell his aftershave. Dick went rigid as Jason canted his head towards his ear, eyes trailing over Dick’s form in a way that made that awareness he’d been ignoring light up beneath his skin. “It’ll do good things for your image. Always the Golden Boy, huh Dick? Such a  _ Pretty Bird _ ...”

Suddenly, he was furious. How _dare_ he blame Dick for every single mistake he’d made? Jason hadn’t listened to Bruce and ended up in that warehouse alone. Yeah, Dick was a shitty tutor, but that’s why he had _Bruce_ to help him, not that Jason was ever known for listening. He’d tried - obviously not hard enough, but he’d been young himself, not much older than Jason - when he’d left Gotham behind for his own adventures. He was furious at being blamed for failing to live up to some idealistic expectation. He hadn’t wanted it, still didn’t want it, and Jason reminding him of it made him livid.

**_Fuck. You._ **

Twisting viciously in Jason’s grip, he felt Jason’s flicker of surprise as he slammed his head forward, butting Jason crudely in the temple. As Jason grunted in shock at the impact, his grip weakened momentarily, allowing Dick the window he needed to launch himself at his opponent, knocking him to the ground and grinding his knees into Jason’s ribcage. He’d never admit it, but he was impressed at how Jason took the noticeably painful hit with a mere grunt and huffed growl, reaching up to shove him off his prone form.

Dick countered his moves, swinging his fist down, satisfied at the meaty thwack that followed the blow against Jason’s jaw. “ _ Quit blaming me for your own fucking choices!  _ I never asked for that! I never asked for  _ any _ of it!”

Suddenly, Dick was thrown off Jason, a searing blunt pain hitting his own side. Jason had used his heavier weight and pinned him underneath him, surprising Dick with how quickly - and quietly - he moved. His eyes widened, even as Jason’s fingers locked on his wrists, his forearm pinned against his throat. Panting, he struggled, but realized quickly Jason had the upper hand when he’d set him off. He stilled, staring up at Jason, watching rage, frustration, and sorrow war for dominance on his face. He blinked, not expecting such depth of emotions from Jason, especially in connection with him.

Suddenly, Jason leaned down and kissed him. It was a rough, quick action, but it shocked him to the very marrow of his bones, making even Dick’s pulse slow to a faint thud in his chest even as that awareness once roared to life. His whole body felt warm, his stomach twisted, his nerves sparking to life, even his cock beginning to feel hot.  _ Wait, did he just…? _

Almost immediately, Dick was furious all over again. Was Jason fucking with him again? Had he somehow picked up on the fact Dick was attracted to him and was now using that against him? He was positive he’d hidden his reactions. When Jason went to kiss him again, Dick bit him before he could deepen the kiss, but didn’t have it in him to throw him off, going still. Jason hissed in pain, rearing back and pulling his lips away, giving Dick enough room to launch a counter attack. He took it, immediately launching at Jason.

Jason, it seemed, was just as eager to settle their fight without communication, supplementing blows for an exchange of words. Before long, his body ached, winded from the exertion of fighting and burning from the multitude of physical blows, but he refused to admit his faults, not when Jason refused to admit his own as well, and he  _ certainly  _ wasn’t going to admit he’d enjoyed the kiss. 

Dick lost track of time, forcing his body to keep moving even as he became fatigued, since Jason also didn’t slow, both refusing to bend. Dick felt his control slipping, but held on, hoping that Jason would wind sooner than he would, and then they’d talk - _really_ talk. 

They’d talk about how much he’d missed him, how much he was angry at Jason but also at himself, how he’d realized too late his mistakes with Jason and supplemented them by forging a strong bond with Tim to ease some of that guilt he felt after Jason had died. At how - even now - Jason continued to shock him, coming back from the grave with that hard-nosed tenacity he both admired and hated him for, even when he was a mere kid. How he wished he could fix the past and make it up to the man in front of him. How he could teach Jason to stop hating him. How they could be friends, even when Dick was still surprised at the large, attractive man he’d grown into. How he’d liked that kiss, wanting to do so much more if he’d let him and not feel repulsed by the fact he wanted his own brother.

Just when he’d been ready to break, Jason pinned him roughly and kissed him again. Dick groaned then - a hoarse, needy noise - and fists and fingers became mechanisms for removing clothing. He didn’t even know who started it, him or Jason, but soon after Jason kissed him, they were naked. It wasn’t until Jason was muttering a combined oath and a praise and breaching him, his own thighs wrapped around Jason’s waist, that Dick consciously realized what they’d done. By then, his blood was on fire, his cock was throbbing so hard he almost whimpered when Jason’s fingers fisted around it and began to pump in tune with his thrusts, and he knew deep down he’d never tell him to stop. 

Suddenly Jason stopped, just as Dick went rigid. Jason was inside him, his hands were on his cock, and Dick’s fingers were fisted in his hair, keeping his mouth close to his own. It was too late to undo what they’d started now and he realized he didn't want to.  _ Don’t stop,  _ he thought desperately.  _ Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop-- _

“Dick,” Jason groaned again, this time his voice sounding hoarse, both sad and desperately wistful, so much so Dick croaked out what he was thinking, just to get him to move again and ease the ache in his blood. He needed to come  _ so _ badly, he couldn’t remember a stronger craving for an orgasm than the one promised now.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop,” he murmured shakily, feeling a shudder ripple through Jason’s form just as he began to fuck him in earnest.

* * *

 

**Present Moment**

Everything was on  _ fire _ . The diner wasn’t even recognizable now, it had transformed from a quaint aging restaurant to a fiery room straight from hell. He could hear screams all around him - the other guests? The workers? Witnesses outside the chaos, hoping to help them? As he raised himself up off the floor from where he’d been blown back onto the hard checkered tile, his eyes watered in protest against the brightly burning glow. It was so damned  _ hot,  _ he could barely breathe. How had he ended up on the  _ floor?  _ Had Jason tossed him away, or had he ducked at the last second? Panic seized him as he realized he couldn’t remember, either adrenaline blurring rational thought or Lilith’s healing was fading. What he did know, however, was that Jason wasn’t at his side.

Sirens wailed in the distance, telling Ric that the fire department was on their way, but all he could focus on was the searing heat and the fact that he couldn’t see Jason. When he tried to look around, he had to shield his eyes from the raging inferno all around him. Outside, spectators were gathering, shouting for water. Dimly, he could hear another cackle of a woman, laughing hysterically.  _ What the fuck?  _ Why was she laughing? “Jason?  _ Jason!? _ ”

“Over here.” 

A loud coughing came from his left, across several spans of harsh rings of fire, making Ric whirl, even as he dodged burning debris, heading towards the noise. Before long, he saw Jason, huddled under a booth table with Gladys and the young family Ric had seen enter. They’d been talking when the chaos had erupted. Jason’s relief shined in his eyes, making Ric realize he must’ve thrown himself down and out of harm’s way, not the other way around.

“You’re okay,” Jason said, even as Ric reached down, pulling one of the children against his chest. He nodded, glancing over his shoulder, glaring against the flare of the hot flames nearby. 

“Yeah. How the hell this start?” He suddenly pivoted, glancing towards the kitchen. It was mostly intact, something that didn’t settle his gut. That meant that the gas lines hadn’t been hit... _ yet.  _ “We need to get out of here, stat. I’m guessing those burners and the stove are gas powered?”

“Yes,” Gladys murmured, looking back the way Ric was staring, a profound look of understanding sweeping over her face. “But Dwight, the cook, he could be…”

“No time,” Ric cut her off, glancing to Jason. He had already gathered up the other child, jerking the parents to their feet, along with Gladys. “The kitchen’s largely fine, he’ll have to make it out on his own for now. Can’t risk the kids, it could blow any minute.”

That seemed to settle the older woman, who glanced to the children in Jason and Ric’s arms. Nodding, she followed them as they slowly fought their way along the side of the diner, avoiding the front where the maniacal laughter continued. As they sweated and pushed their way towards the exit, Ric cast Jason a knowing look. He said nothing, but by the grim look on his face, he was thinking the same thing. 

The kind of laughter they were hearing came from Arkham - or had. It was one of Batman’s rogues, so also probably one of their own. They’d known they were here and had targeted them directly, not caring who was caught in the crosshairs. Hearing the children begin to cough loudly, Ric snapped out of it and quickly pushed to get out of the building as soon as possible. 

Just as they were getting close to the exit, another fire bomb was thrown inside, shattering in an arc inches from Ric’s face. Biting back a curse, he jerked back just in the nick of time, hearing that giggle of maniacal laughter follow the explosion from the outside.

“No fair! Give me the pretty boy! Come out, come out, wherever you are...I know that fire bomb didn’t blow off that pretty face, I saw you dodge at the last second. I need to talk to you!”

He didn’t recognize the voice, but he sure as hell wasn’t answering to the crazy-sounding woman outside. Squinting and peering out a window, he saw the same maniacal clown-inspired woman from the subway; this time in a green dress suit, complete with a hat and white mask. Sending Jason another stare, they paused as the woman raised her hands and snapped her fingers, several dozen more henchmen appearing next to her, moving forward from the crowd that had gathered at the scene. As it stood, they were seriously outnumbered - and outgunned. He found it ironic that he was missing Jason’s guns more and more.

_ ‘ You know this chick?’ _ Ric mouthed, watching Jason’s lips thin. He glanced at Ric, nodding subtly but said nothing.  _ ‘What does she want?’ _ Ric mouthed, only for Jason to shrug his shoulders and shake his head. 

Just then, the children they were clutching began to cough and wail. The fire was nearing them and they had no course of action that seemed safe - the diner was slowly becoming engulfed in flames, the kitchen seconds from exploding and obliterating the building, and the diner was surrounded by the unusual woman in clown gear. Realizing it was him she wanted, he knelt down, watching Jason’s gaze narrow on him and surge forward, but he quickly passed the kid off to Gladys and rose, diving for the front door.

“Dick -  _ no! _ ”

Ignoring Jason’s words, his reference to his old name, he panted as he rolled out onto the entryway of the diner, in plain sight of the mystery woman’s henchman - and their rifle scopes.

Rising slowly, he stared at the red-headed woman as she beamed him a smile, then pointed at him once more. Two henchmen on either side of him raised their guns, aiming them at his chest, and Ric froze, wondering if this was going to be his last moments on Earth. This time, he had a feeling the chances of survival were minimal. 

Suddenly, a commotion kicked up from the crowd, behind where the crazy woman in the clown gear stood with her men. Looking up, he watched a formation of  _ four  _ Nightwings spring forward, led by an aging dark-haired certain detective he’d just talked to earlier. He noted Hutch with him, aiming his body towards the gas lines that probably snaked up the side of the building, towards the kitchens, making Ric smile. Jason and the others would be safe.

“Take him!” The woman screamed, jerking Ric’s gaze back to her and the henchman. “Your boss wants him alive!”

He readied himself, hearing Jason roaring his name from the inside of the diner, trying to fight off the group of men, but unfortunately he was soon overpowered by sheer numbers. Feeling the hard business end of a gun slam against his jaw, he stumbled, feeling restraints tied to his wrists as a black sack was tossed over his face, and he was dragged away roughly.

* * *

Ric blinked awake to the faint  _ drip-drip-drip  _ of water pattering against a metal or stone base. He still couldn’t see, his face covered in the black cloth sack from before, and when he inhaled slowly, he tasted the loaminess of earth and limestone. He was underground, or in a stone holding cell somewhere near a natural formation of rock and water. Unfortunately, many places he could think of met that descriptions. His body seemed slow to respond, sluggish and heavy-limbed, and he realized he’d been drugged. His mouth tasted like cotton had been stuffed inside it, probably a side effect to the drugs he’d been fed.

“Hello?”

A rustle of dirt and rock skittered to his right, making him jerk and look towards the noise. “Who’s there?” Again, another sound - more movement, this time from multiple directions.  _ The henchmen, they were watching me, waiting for me to wake.  _ “Your boss woman around? What do you want?”

Slowly, he felt a feather-soft touch against his right cheek, while he was distracted by the noise to the left. He stiffened, jerking his face back, and the black sack was yanked off his head, startling him against the dim glow of a light behind the woman standing in front of him. Finally, she was face to face with the woman from the subway. She grinned, the expression somehow  _ wrong.  _ This woman wasn’t merely a criminal, she was deranged.

“You’re finally awake! I’ve been waiting for  _ hours! _ ” She pouted, shaking her head. She still wore the green business dress suit, now tattered and darkened at the edges with soot probably from the fire she'd started. Her hair was a glossy red auburn, curly and yet askew. Pushed back against the top of her hair was a joker mask held against her head by a black length of stretch cord. Slowly, her eyes lifted, glancing at something behind him. He had been so busy staring at her, he hadn’t noticed he was being held in the center of the room and someone was standing behind him. He froze at the realization. “I got you what you asked for, the one thing the Hood treasures above anything. Now, will you tell me how to find my father?”

Slowly, he turned his head, staring over across the darkened room as an old short man smirked, flashing a row of glimmering white teeth towards the woman, a monocle on one eye. The other was covered by a bandage that snaked underneath his tophat, but the long aquiline nose was unmistakable.  _ Penguin. _

Oswald grinned at the woman that had captured Ric, leering over Ric like a predator savoring his next meal, his delicately detailed suit at odds with the capricious look on his face. As he snapped his fingers, a henchman approached with a knife, passing it to him as he chuckled, flickering a look over at the woman. “Quite right, Miss Dent. A deal, after all....is a deal.” Ric stared as an envelope was passed to the woman and she squealed, kissing Penguin's cheek as she skipped out of the room. 

Ric swallowed, not sure what was going to happen next, but he knew it wasn’t good. He knew _why_ he was here, of course - his connection to Jason. Closing his eyes as he felt the knife prickle against his chin, forcing down the apprehension that ate at his gut, knowing Penguin wanted his pound of flesh out of Jason for what he'd done. Unfortunately, it seemed Ric would be the one paying the price.


	7. Chapter 7

Barbara looked up just as the door to her changing room heaved under the heft of a heavy boot, the hinges squealing tightly in reaction before giving entirely, making her tense and reach for her utility belt and the stun spray nestled there, despite knowing who was plowing through her spare office quarters at Gordon Clean Energy. Luckily, she was still carrying some components under her civvies for a night on the town - of the black, gold, and blue variety - hovering her fingers over the belt strung tight underneath her loose silk shirt. She felt the kicks as surely as she felt the rising panicked pulse of her heart, but refused to show it, keeping her voice calm as the door slammed to the ground, outlining the form of the enraged man on the other side. “Jason...you do realize we’re not supposed to meet until later this evening, right? Breaking my door won’t--”

She cut off what she was saying, narrowing her eyes as she spotted the four figures behind him, all wearing various incarnations of Dick’s costumes over the years. Peering briefly at the video feed, she glowered when one of the mysterious ‘Nightwings’ grinned - a young male with sandy brown hair, similar in facial structure to the young woman standing at his side with the same hair color, so a sibling perhaps - and what he had in his upraised hand: a cell phone with some kind of encrypted software that must have allowed him to infiltrate her system and shield them from her view. All she had seen storming towards her hideaway was Jason.

 _Keep an eye on that one,_ she mused to herself, glancing back to Jason, who stomped forward, chest heaving, outfit reeking of ash, burnt wood, and remnants of accelerant. The young man holding the cell phone held back, clearly allowing Jason to take the lead, but she considered him one of the more deadly of the ground with what he could do with the tech he had on hand. _He’s good -- maybe_ **_too_ ** _good._ Making note of the stranger briefly, she shifted and returned her entire focus back on Jason and the infamous red hood he was wearing, glaring into the red chrome that reflected her own warped perturbed expression. She had an inkling of why he was here, but didn’t want to give away her hand just yet, flickering her gaze once more over the others, letting him know without words she wasn’t happy to have him here - especially with others she didn’t recognize. “What’s the meaning of this? Who the hell are they? Why are you here, when you could easily be traced? I’ll have you know--”

“They took Dick,” Jason cut her off, his tone as sharp and cold as steel. Barbara tensed, eyes widening, as one of the Nightwings stepped forward. _Okay, that...I didn’t know._ He was older than all the others, sparse streaks of gray at his temples startling her, holding up a hand as she frowned, opening her mouth to ask who ‘they’ were, internally chastising herself for not taking better care with Dick’s observation measures - but she’d thought he’d been completely out of the game - when the older man peeled off his mask and turned to her, shocking her further.

She _knew_ that face, her dad had coffee with him once a month at least, when he made his rounds to all the precincts. _Detective Alphonse Sapienza, out of...Blüdhaven._

That immediately made the stone in her stomach settle and condense, flickering a sharp gaze to the others and Jason, as if it further strengthened the idea of Dick being captured in her mind. If he was now using one of Dick’s old costumes - as that what they had to be - she began to wonder who the others were and if they knew _who_ Dick used to be.

She gave Jason a pointed stare, wanting to know how they’d found the suits, why they were revealing themselves to her now - did they in turn know she was Batgirl? - and why they were here with _Jason_ of all people, but he was ignoring it, gesturing savagely at Detective Sapienza and barking out something she could barely make out over the mechanical voice mod he was using. Sapienza blinked, glaring over at Jason like he’d lost his mind, beginning to shake his head. “You want to _what?_ Absolutely not, that’s out of the question--”

Jason growled, the sound eerie in the now nearly quiet room, but Sapienza stood his ground. Barbara took the few seconds allotted her to ignore their fighting, instead spending that time glancing at the others. They too surprised her, revealing their faces. She wanted to snort, but took pity and kept her expression neutral as they revealed themselves. Why take such a risk? They must be new.

The young man surprised her in his blatant handsomeness, standing beside what she had assumed correctly - _his sister? Cousin?_ \- their facial features too similar to be anything else but blood relation. The man at the back of the pack was bulky, a hewn-faced stranger with beautiful African American features, but as closed off as the others seemed approachable. Later, she’d investigate them all, knowing she’d peer into Gotham’s city records - they had to be cops, or at least connected to them - flicking a glance to Detective Sapienza. They seemed comfortable around him, telling her that they knew one another, either on the job or through connections by way of the police force.

Still, she remembered hearing Jason’s words that Dick was gone and once more felt a flicker of panic tear at her gut, interrupting whatever argument was taking place between Jason and Sapienza. “Who took him?”

Jason savagely turned and ripped his helmet off, clenching it so tightly she heard the metal groan in protest as he took a few steps towards her, making her steel her spine as she met the barely controlled ire in his gaze. “Fucking Duela Dent,” he growled, shoving off the other’s murmurs of concern as he stepped forward, ignoring the wariness on their expressions as they looked her way. She stood firm, studying the wildness around Jason, even as her heart began to beat a steady, staccato rhythm, fear coiling like a cold stone in her stomach. “The bitch set the fucking diner we were at on fire. He sacrificed himself to save us. She left once she had him and these tools helped me get the crowd inside out of the place before the gas lines blew, calmed the scene before the cops showed. I wanted to follow and behead the crazy bitch, but she’s skipped town, so I need you to tell me who she’s working for. It wasn’t a job she’d normally do, and I know you keep intel on everyone, you’re as meticulous as he is and we ain’t exactly on speaking terms right now, so _tell me_ \--”

She’d never seen Jason this unhinged, calming her outward expression as he neared her - eyes wild, fingers clenching and unclenching around the helm held in his grip - and she felt a flicker of sympathy for him as he rambled on. Jason loved Dick, wholly and completely, always had, briefly making her jealous when she was younger when she also had a crush on Dick, but the depth of which Jason felt for Dick, she knew she’d never compete and stepped back. Dick, it seemed, was able to mend the broken parts of Jason, slowly molding him into something better -- until that damned bullet had ruined everything.

Staring at Jason, she suddenly realized he didn’t know the _truth_ \- about the subsequent events of what had happened here once he left town, nor those he’d left behind. If she didn’t word this carefully, she worried he’d finally go down a dark path no member of the Bat clan had ever ventured down. It was without saying that, once he went there, there would be no coming back. She wondered, then, why he’d come to her for the information. Did he know the state Bruce was in? Why she’d called him back to town? It wasn’t just for Dick, even if that was part of the reason. She’d kept tabs on him after he left, seen the bloody path he’d carved for himself across the states. She’d heard rumors, of course, on what had gone down between him and Bruce when he’d shot Penguin, but the live surveillance feed she’d been able to muddle through on the dark web was ominously missing, most likely Bruce’s doing or Tim’s, who still felt remorse at the state Bruce was in now, despite being the one who’d suffered recently at his hand. She wondered again, as she had since Dick had got shot and refused to learn about his past life, if she was partially responsible for who Jason was unraveling into now, not pushing Dick more when she had the chance.

 _If Dick dies…_ She didn’t want to finish the thought.

Sighing faintly, she glanced at Detective Sapienza, gaining confidence in the brief smile he gave her - knowing her as the Commissioner’s daughter, nothing else, at least not yet - looking back to Jason and deciding to gently come clean and catch him up on current events. “Penguin was released from the hospital last week. He put out a hit on you. If Duela was desperate enough for work, maybe she’s working for him.” She glanced at the others, choosing to step forward as she watched Jason’s eyes widen in surprise just as the realization hit home and they darkened in a mixture of anguish and banked rage.

 _“What?”_ He finally rasped, his fists clenching once more around the helm he held. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me? I’ve been here for almost a fucking week and you said nothing about him being alive, Babs. _Fuck,_ you knew what he’d want to do to me, an’ I’ve been avoiding dressing as the Hood, instead spending time with...” The flash of agony that flickered across his face almost made her wince.

“Because you weren’t here at the time and I didn’t need you attempting to murder him again, not with what I’m currently dealing with,” she snapped, glaring at him, forcing down the swallow that wanted to choke her before she could get the words out, feeling the full blast of his rage once more shift back to her when he processed the information she’d said.

“How the _fuck_ does Penguin know Dick’s old identity? Is this because of me, or he knew earlier?” She said nothing, watching his fury skyrocket. “Is this why you called me, brought me back? To use him as fucking bait for the Penguin?”

She knew she had to choose her next words carefully, even as she saw the others ready to tackle Jason if needed. She raised a hand, shaking her head, watching Jason go rigid. No matter what the Blüdhaven police did these days in basic training, they stood no chance against Jason and his years of training with some of the most bloodthirsty and tactical-savvy creatures in the world. “No, I brought you back here to protect him...and do a job.” She hesitated, glancing at the others, choosing not to use names this time, for what she was about to say. She didn’t know these other Nightwings, not even Sapienza, not really. If they became compromised, she wanted to control the damage that could be leaked. “It’s Batman. He’s been….unwell. I think his database is compromised -- or he is. Penguin is no fool, he might’ve always known and just never acted on it, but if it was leaked….I have a feeling the leak came from the Bat. I’d hoped that you could help me find him, with Dick...after Lilith regained most of his memories for him, once you’d talked him into the idea, and…”

Jason’s entire face went murderous with rage, twisting savagely as he realized what she’d done - played them, and the reason she’d asked Jason back in the first place. “You _what_ ?” He roared, lunging forward, but stopping a few inches from her face.  She couldn’t help it - that time she _did_ swallow, but she refused to show fear.

Briefly, she heard the unencumbered groans from Detective Sapienza and the silent African American, telling her they’d tried to subdue him and in the seconds it had taken him to reach her, he’d already brought them to heel. The others, when her eyes trailed over Jason’s shoulder, just looked stuck between terrified and in shock. The girl scowled, about to march forward, but the young man at her side gripped her arm, holding her back, staring at Jason with an expression that could only be described as fear.

“You set me up, little sister?” Jason hissed, shaking his head incredulously, glaring at her in silent fury. “I expected that from Bats...but _you?_ You set him up too, knowing what he’s been through. He was _fucking shot_ in the fucking _head_ , and you…” He growled, reaching up and tracing her jaw with a finger, the leather covering his hands twisting as he controlled the well of anger that no doubt surged as her words registered to him, most likely fantasizing briefly about strangling her, but he had to understand what was at stake. _Bruce was at risk, something was wrong with him, and he’d gone off the grid completely. Even Alfred hadn’t found him._ Suddenly, he jerked his hand back and took several step away, as if the thought of standing beside her repelled him. She didn’t know why, but that act made her flinch more than any action his anger had done so far. She hated to hurt him, knowing how rough and bleak most of Jason’s past was, but this was far bigger than either of them.

“He beat Red Robin,” she murmured softly, making Jason still as he rapidly glared over at her, seeing the serious subdued look on her face. He blinked, some of the rage dimming, replaced with worry and surprise - shock, even. “He’s in Gotham General. I’ll take you to him, after we get Dick back. I’m sorry, I didn’t think Penguin would learn you were here so soon, you were supposed to be laying low, keep Dick occupied until we could meet up, and I was going to explain the situation. I haven’t seen him like this...since you died, Hood. It’s...bad.”

The mention of Tim being subjected to what she suspected might’ve gone down between Jason and Bruce before he fled drained some of the anger out of Jason. Still, he turned and stared at her in a way that made her swallow.

“You better pray to whatever god you worship he’s still alive,” Jason whispered, slinging his helm back into place as he moved to the doors. “Because if he’s not, I will burn this entire fucking city to the ground. He still held up where I think he was?”

When she failed to say anything, blanching at his words, he pivoted and looked at her. The assuredness in his ice blue eyes chilled her. “Text me what you got. Right fucking now, Babs. I mean it.” Turning, he left the room.

The other Nightwings this time cleared a path around Jason, watching him head for the door. She saw the African American man and Detective Sapienza look torn - trying to decide if they should follow him or stay and question how she knew the Hood - flickering their gaze between Jason’s retreating form and her own worried stare. Knowing they would only injure themselves if they tried to follow Jason, she cleared her throat, gathering their attention. She swallowed, then went to her computer, doing just what he asked, before addressing them, trying to ignore the trembling in her fingers.

Flashing them a faint smile, she glanced pointedly at the young sandy brown haired man, tilting her head to the side. “You broke through my firewall. No one has ever done that before.”

The man flushed, glancing to the others, then seemingly made a decision, stepping forward and offering his hand. “Name is Zak, Ms.Gordon. Zak Edwards, Blüdhaven PD. That’s my sister, Colleen,” he waved his hand towards the woman she’d figured to be a blood relative, watching his sister’s expression go from shocked to angry at her brother outing her identity. Detective Sapienza said nothing, just staring with a blank expression, the African American man moving up beside him, staring in the same fashion.

“Oh c'mon, don’t look like that Coll,” Zak said, shrugging his shoulder, glancing back at Barbara and flashing her a smile, revealing a dimple in either cheek. “She’s--” He hesitated, watching her eyes narrow as she inwardly groaned - he was a hacker, it seemed, and if he was any good he’d have learned who she was already, just smart enough in common sense to avoid blurting out her alternate identity at the last second - watching him back pedal hilariously, ruffling a hand through his hair with a flush. “The Ba-I mean...Big Commissioner's daughter, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t know us already. If she didn’t, she would soon anyways, yeah?”

He paused, glancing her way, she she couldn’t help but give him an amused smile before glancing around the room. As much as Bruce’s situation tugged at her nerves, knowing they had to find him - he’d disappeared not long after the attack on Tim - she was unsettled knowing Dick was out there and hurting because of her. _I should have told them sooner why I needed them,_ she thought. _This is my fault._

“I’m one of the…” Zak said, drawing her attention back to him, trailing off as he pointed to his outfit and the others, a sobering expression pulling the jovial look off his face. “Well, you know. Is he...should we go help...you know, get Mr. Grayson back? I’d _no idea_ he was…” He blinked, shaking his head, ruffling his hair again with one of his hands in a way that would have been endearing, if it had been during any other circumstance, flushing pink once more. “Well, I mean - he could _move_ , so I suspected he was _something_ to the Super community, just never thought he was _the_ Nightwing, you know. You mentioned Batman is messed up. Maybe we can help there?”

“I think that’s a great idea, Zak.” The African American man chose that moment to murmur, drawing Barbara’s gaze his way. He glanced thoroughly over her form in a clinical way, as if weighing up the merit of her character. Finally, when his eyes settled back on her own, he dipped his head, seemingly pleased with whatever he’d found. “Malcolm Hutch, ma’am. Blüdhaven Fire Department. How can we help? Seems that dude’s got it. He’s rocking heat that I don’t want to mess with, if you catch my drift.”

 _You mean he's going to kill people, maybe even do more damage than that, if Dick is dead,_ she thought as she stared at him. Malcolm said nothing but he seemed to sense her thoughts, nodding his head subtly.

Barbara swallowed, feeling tears well in her eyes. The Bat clan was falling apart, the cost of always protecting the city against its worst criminal creations. As much as the League would be furious that she hadn’t called them, she felt - for once - that this might need a touch of home to help the situation. Besides, she couldn’t subject Bruce to the League’s attentions unless she knew he was too far gone for them to handle, knowing then it was more at risk that his reputation or pride.

“Okay,” she whispered, nodding, composing herself and moving to the dual screens of the League’s database she kept an open connection with in this place. “Let  me show you what I know.”

The others gathered close and she gathered her strength, then proceeded to tell them what to do next.

* * *

“Be a chap, would you, and smile for the camera?”

Ric squinted as he felt a blinding light thrust in his face. When his eyes recovered, he noted a blinking red indicator on a small hand held device, telling him that the darkened silhouette of a henchman was recording this. _Oh, great,_ he thought, scowling and glaring in Penguin’s direction as he strolled into the brightened area of the room Ric was being held, still dressed in a dapper suit that was at odds with the rough rock cavern he was being held in. The bandages on Penguin’s face were still there, obscuring part of his face from view, and Ric stilled, remembering back to what Jason had told him at the diner, over brunch.

 _I shot Penguin point blank in the face. On live TV._ Was he now disfigured? He remembered his own brush with death in relation to a gun and marveled with a brief sense of bitterness at how easily recovered the criminal seemed. Ric had taken weeks to even learn to hold a spoon to his mouth, not to mention walk and talk without a stutter and struggle to find the right words - and here was a killer, a criminal, able to smoothly recover in a way he hadn’t been able to. He suddenly understood some of Jason’s rage in relation to the criminal underworld that never seemed to stop or be hindered at the vigilante’s attempts to slow their devastation on the common people of Gotham, wanting to shout his fury at the man in front of him.

Faintly, in the distance, he heard splashing. He tilted his face briefly around the room, noting blue plastic tarps had been hung around the rest of the exits, cleverly to disguise where he was. He was as clueless as ever, finally glancing back at Penguin when he slapped him painfully against the left cheek with a leather glove, making his skin smart while the villain hissed in his face once more.

“Doesn’t that overgrown Bat teach you how to follow directions? _Smile for the camera,_ _boy_.”

Twisting in his seat, feeling the bite of plastic twist ties digging painfully into his wrists and ankles, he glared into the camera and flashed both rows of teeth in a mockery of a smile. He grunted furiously, realizing he’d been bound to a metal chair, and even at his strength, he could tell he was too weak to break the ties that held him in place.

Penguin chuckled, shaking his head as he watched Ric struggle, glancing back at the henchman who’s face Ric couldn’t make out. “He thinks we’ve made a mistake in tying him down. Should I show him how helpless he really is?”

Ric listened to the responding laugh of the nameless man that held the camera, glaring over at Oswald as he turned, reaching for something on a crude wooden table at his back. Ric couldn’t make out the items he had stored on it, under a brown towel, but knew whatever was there, he wouldn’t like. He was here for one purpose - to make Jason suffer, most likely through torture.

“Oh gee, what’ll it be? Knife? Blow torch? Screw driver? Death by hammer? You idiots are all the same,” he joked, shaking his head, refusing to show fear. He didn’t want Jason seeing this video but feared he would, keeping his expression and attitude in check. Suddenly, he felt the handle of a gun slam into his temple, making him groan and fall still while Oswald had the henchman pan the camera over his form.

“Usually I don’t debase myself like this, but for you dear boy, I’ll make an exception.” Penguin murmured, making Ric go tense when he flashed the silver edge of a knife his way, pressing it against his left pectoral and sliding it along the skin just hard enough to split the skin a fourth an inch deep, cutting through the shirt he wore. Ric grit his teeth, closing his eyes, controlling his breathing. Small, shallow cuts like that weren’t lethal and he certainly wouldn’t bleed out from them, but it didn’t mean that they didn’t hurt like a bitch.

“He’ll kill you for sure this time if you end my life,” Ric managed to grind out, ignoring the searing slash of another drawn cut, this time on his other pectoral. He could smell the coppery metallic scent of his own blood and tried his best to contain his reaction once more, the sweat pouring off him stinging the wounds further, making the pain flare up several levels. “You know what he’s capable of, he’s no Batman. You have some kind of death wish, Penguin?”

Penguin pivoted, backhanding him so hard he saw stars and blackness swam before his eyes. He felt woozy and almost laughed, feeling a bloody grin tug the edges of his lips up. _Easy with the head, man. Didn’t you hear I got shot a few months back? At this rate I’ll be a vegetable by Christmas._

“Shut your idiotic mouth!” Penguin roared, driving the edge of the knife in his hand painfully into Ric’s left quad, twisting the handle until Ric couldn’t help but scream. The pain was immediate and all encompassing. He tried jerking back, but a henchman held him in place. “I won’t even call you by your fucking Bird name, you little Bat Brat! It’s an insult to all avian life! How can you let him touch you? You’re disgusting! You’re all disgusting! _Look what he did to me!_ Take a good long look, you fucking freak!”

Ric blinked his eyes open when another henchman appeared alongside the one filming, slamming his temple with his fist, blood blurring his vision from where the impact had cut the flesh above his right eye, near his eyebrow. He leaned forward, trying not to scream again as the knife twisted in the wound in his thigh, still buried to the hilt, but from what he could see, the man had the hindsight not to nick an artery. Couldn’t spoil the fun, could they?

Penguin leered over him, the tophat on his head tumbling backwards as his foe bat it off his head, tearing off the gauze that had been looped over one side of his face and partially obscuring one eye. Between the eye and the bony protrusion of his brow was a hollow mass of grotesque tissue, red and swollen but healing. Still, he’d always be permanently blind, from what Ric could dimly see through his pain and the haze of his own wavering vision. He flashed Oswald another trembling smile, determined to be a champ during this encounter, knowing full well Jason would see it soon - if it wasn’t already being live streamed directly to him. He would not beg, under any circumstances, and crush an already hurting man. He knew what his death, or seeing his pain on camera, would do to him.

“Guess you won’t be winning any Beauty Contests anymore,” Ric whispered, annoyed his tone warbled unsteadily, but was satisfied at the copious amounts of sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Darn. I know you had such _high_ hopes.”

Penguin flashed him a smile that sent chills throughout his body. Raising his eyes, he glanced to the henchman that was holding him down, barking at him to tighten his hold. Ric closed his eyes, knowing what was coming. _Let’s get this over with._

In the end, he was proud of how long he last before he began to scream, finally sinking into the welcoming oblivion of unconsciousness.

* * *

Ric jerked awake at the sound of screams and gunfire. His head felt stuffed with cotton and he groaned, trying to right his head, realizing that he was on his side. At some point, his chair had fallen and he’d faceplanted into the stone floor and no one had ever rightened him since. Seeing the small pool of blood underneath him, he figured he knew why. How long had he been down here, in this hell hole? A day? A week? He felt weak, dehydrated, and disoriented. The fits had returned with the beatings, and he’d lost track of time.

_Jason?_

“Ja-Jason, th-at, y-you?” He hoarsely whispered, even as he heard the door  shudder and then splinter, along with more fighting, and then screams of death. Soon after, the gritty movement of boots on stone and sand. “Ja-son? I can’t...see...you. Is that...you?”

He began to sob. “I love...you. Figured that out...all on my...own.” His vision began to flicker again and he sighed, closing his eyes, letting the confusing sensations wash over him once more.

“ _Dick!_ Dick, wake up! Babe, please! Don’t you dare die on me, I love you too much! I swear to fucking god, if you die, I will kill Ras myself and put you in a pit, just so you can suffer in this miserable shithole of a world with me. Don’t you fucking dare die. Lil? You got him?”

Dick snorted a laugh, considering it a hallucination like the others he’d had over the past few days - or was it hours? He no longer knew, no longer cared. It was nice hearing his voice again, at least.

“The old you never said such sappy, stupid things,” he whispered, hearing Jason’s burst of pained laughter, along with the murmur of a familiar voice - _Lilith Clay,_ his mind supplied.

“That’s right, asshole, I love you. I’m getting you the fuck outta here, then I’m making sure you wear a goddamned safety helmet for the rest of your life.”

Dick smiled, once more feeling himself slipping into unconsciousness, but this time it was an eased, painless transition. In the back of his mind, he saw a woman there - green eyes, red hair, waving gently at him as she pulsed with green-yellow magic - and he smiled, no longer worried.

Seems they had found him after all.

* * *

“We should wake him.”

“You take one step closer to him and you lose the fuckin’ hand,” Jason growled from his side. He could hear the faint beeping of a monitor somewhere from behind and to the left and a medicinal smell wafted towards his nostrils. Where was he? A hospital?

The woman who’d voice the statement merely sighed. “Jason, please. He’s recovered, Lilith told us both. You’ve nothing to worry about. She needs to see to Bru--”

“You are not fucking waking him, got it? She can see to dear old dad at any time, but he’ll wake when he’s good and fucking ready.” Jason’s tone was brokering no arguments, a mere growl. He frowned, trying to place the female’s voice, realizing it was Barbara’s.

Blinking, he opened his eyes, seeing Jason’s solid form leaning near his own that was placed in a hospital-like gurney, except the place they were wasn’t a hospital. It was the Bat Cave below Wayne manor. He felt Jason snap to attention, looking down at him with concern in his eyes, even as Barbara found his gaze and offered him a faint smile. He tilted his head, registering a faint extra beep farther away, and blinked in shock at what he saw - Lilith Clay, sitting beside Bruce, who looked emaciated and exhausted, completely comatose.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. “What’d I miss?”

“How’re you feeling, Ric?” Jason murmured, drawing his attention back his way. The worry and love in his eyes humbled him. “Did we wake you? I’m sorry.”

He smiled faintly. “You can call me Dick.” He glanced back at Barbara, watching her stare at him with a mixture of concern and guilt, the last bit surprising him. “Both of you.” Again, his eyes floated back to Bruce and Lilith at his side, her fingers green where she touched him. “What happened?”

Barbara cleared her throat, shrugging a shoulder. “Bane and several of the others were wearing him down. They created a huge network, one that took even me by surprise. Zak helped me figure out the web of conspiracy, and Alphonse and Malcolm, along with Tim’s help...found him. He’s very sick, probably will be for a while. I’ve an appointment with the League in an hour. They’re pissed I didn’t tell them sooner, but…” She shrugged once more, glancing back his way.

Dick felt a prickling in the back of his mind, thinking of all the phone calls and strange coincidences over the past several weeks when she’d been in the same place as he was, asking him to come back and be around those that loved him. “You wanted me to help find him.” His eyes rested on Lilith’s form momentarily before he looked back Barbara’s way. “After she helped with my memory hangups.”

Barbara nodded, lowering her eyes guiltily, feeling Jason’s fingers tighten around his own, where he was holding Dick’s hand. “Yes, I’m sorry. I know you wanted out, but...it’s Bruce.”

“I understand.” He murmured, watching her gaze snap up. He heard Jason’s growl of annoyance but quelled it with a brief look, watching his lover go immediately quiet, even if he didn’t like it, from the smarting glow in his eyes. “I do,” he said, glancing back at Barbara, then over at Lilith. “Is she helping him?”

“Yes. I’m afraid that means she can’t restore your memories right now, not that I’m sure you wanted them back anyways.” Barbara briefly glanced between him and Jason, color rising in her cheeks. “At least...I thought so, before you and Jason were once more…”

Dick smiled, glancing back at Jason, feeling his stare on him. Whatever, or wherever, life led him, he knew he'd be fine as long as Jason was by his side. He'd taken a bullet to the brain, Jason had literally died and been resurrected. He was _done_ waiting to be with him, memories of their past still missing or not. “We’ll be fine for now. I'd like them restored, but in the meantime...we can make some new memories instead.” Jason grinned and he chuckled, glancing back at Barbara, his brow furrowing when the name she'd just spoken finally registered. “Wait, you said Zak, does that mean…”

“That I know about the Nightwings that took your place?” She smiled. “Yes. I’ve inducted them officially, and they’re operating in your capacity until you decide to come back...or don’t. I think after all this, you deserve a vacation. It’ll give me some time to clear Jason’s name anyways. He needs to lay low while my dad and the League decide to proceed. For now, they’re releasing him into your custody.”

Dick tensed, glancing over at Jason, feeling the heaviness of his gaze. _The cavern, the gunfire, had he…?_ Jason stared directly at him, his expression sober, but for once--he simply didn’t care. He remembered Jason’s rage that no one had avenged his own death and oddly, he understood that rage better than ever now, after what he’d suffered, and he hadn’t even died. Still, he needed to know if the outlook for Jason was grim, glancing back questioningly at Barbara.

She stared at him, shifting her gaze between them both. “The evidence is...inconclusive, but damning. It could go either way.”

Dick blinked, watching a faint smile curve her lips. Was he hearing what he _think_ he was hearing? She chose then to turn away, wandering across the cave to where Lilith was overseeing Bruce’s recovery, giving them both some privacy.

Jason said nothing, his expression stony and completely unreadable, but he finally decided to do what he’d been doing for months now and just let it go.

“Okay,” he murmured at last, squeezing Jason’s hand. The brief relief that flashed in his eyes made him smile, pleased Jason was no longer worried Dick lacked any confidence in him. “Where to, then? I think a vacation from Gotham is in order. What do you say?”

Jason grinned faintly, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his lips. “I’m thinking somewhere exotic, so I can fuck you properly once you’re all healed up, but before that...a courthouse. Preferably in a place I’m not wanted man.”

Dick felt his heart tug painfully in his chest as he stared at the playfulness on Jason’s face. “Why’s that?”

“Because we’re getting married,” Jason said matter-of-factly, in the same tone he’d used to announce they were dating without any indication that Dick would object completely crossing his mind, making Dick laugh and tug his mouth down to his once more.

Jason happily obliged, kissing him until his toes curled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No sexy times in the end chapter, 'cause everyone got the shit kicked out of them. A little AU and canon-divergent, but then DC likes to retcon their own canon like a bajillion times, so my representation of Babs feels like how DC is treating her these days, like they don't know what to do with her now, because that's what I question myself when I read her comics lately. "Who is Batgirl in 2019? Does DC even know?" I do kinda dig the idea of her and Zak, tho. He's kind of this little cinnamon roll in the Nightwing comics and I hope he doesn't die a horrible death, but he probably will (LOL).
> 
> I also tried to draw on the crazy recent Batman issue(s) and see what could be had there. I've no idea if King is trying to re-create 'Knightfall,' but as you can see, that's what I did for the sake of this story. 
> 
> Thanks for staying tuned and letting me entertain you!


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